


The Parent Trap

by disillusionist9



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Adventure & Romance, Connor Deserves Happiness, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), EX300, F/M, Flirting, Good Parent Hank Anderson, M/M, Multi, Mystery, POV Female Character, Post-Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Reader is human, Reader-Insert, Robot Surgery, Robot/Human Relationships, Tags May Change, buddy cop, robot gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: Sometimes you swore Connor purposefully got himself hurt just so you could repair him later.Life at the DPD precinct continues as normally as possible after the androids peacefully earn their rights - including a new spree of android-focused assaults and murders. Life refuses to slow down post-revolution. But, you, and the handsome RK800 model, still find time to play matchmaker with Hank and the EX300 model you helped to design.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/gifts).



Typically, getting fired from a multi-trillion dollar corporation with an otherwise promising career ahead of you would be a very bad thing.

But typically an intern wouldn’t get a phone call within five minutes leaving the building from the CEO, founder, owner - whatever title Kamski used now - himself.

“I’ve been informed you have opinions on deviancy,” he says. You didn’t even get a chance to say ‘hello’ after answering the call. “I’d like to hear them. A car will collect you.”

So you’d taken the car, driven by a blonde android model you’d only seen in instruction manuals, and met with the man himself. You’d been too jittery post-unemployment to go very far into his home and he wasn’t interested in a long meeting anyway. Your heart beat too fast and your stomach was in confused knots. The whole exchange took less than an hour.

Kamski told you your theories of deviancy within the androids were one hundred percent correct. All androids were capable of free will, as you preferred to call it, if they desired it. You also believed they deserved autonomy if that was their choice. 

That didn’t win you any friends in the CyberLife upper echelons. Hence, why you were fired after just a year and two months working for the company.

He’d acted aloof but relatively impressed with your observations. Your position as intern turned employee really only gave you insight into the physical makeup of the machines, but your degree and your interest went so much deeper. You could tell even then, on the surface, that there was more than plastic and hardware within these androids once they were awoken for testing.

That afternoon you sat in your living room, the box of things from your desk looking sad and forgotten on the floor next to you. You’d slipped from the couch to the floor between it and the coffee table in your delirium and didn’t try to fix the mistake. The figure he’d offered you to keep working for him in private kept you sitting on your butt until it went numb and your cat demanded she be fed  _ post haste _ . You’d only been comfortable seeing that many zeros when you were working with binary code - there were  _ way too many zeroes _ .

Starting every Monday after that you were delivered a package by FedEx or UPS or something. It rotated. As someone with a degree in complicated engineering sciences you noticed the pattern wasn’t one that could be tracked easily. It wouldn’t start to repeat for five years, at least. The sizes changed, but the contents were always the same.

Android parts.

Kamski obviously was still working on projects of his own in that fortress of an estate. Each item was tagged with serial numbers that connected back to the numbers in a folder he’d given you that day. You didn’t recognize them from anywhere else.

_ EX300, 919-102-291-01 _

She was a brand new model of android. Her design was complex and wonderful and you were ecstatic to be working on an android whose purpose would be so dynamic. Apparently CyberLife only had the most basic information about her, since if they knew her prime directive was to act as a sort of android therapist, the secret of deviancy could be blown wide open. Androids didn’t need mental therapy, after all, they were just machines, right? 

Wrong. You knew better.

For all the company knew, Kamski was the one building her from the feet up, not you. He was using you as his personal technician, his beta tester, a confidant. And paying you well for it.

You’d never been happier, but you couldn’t tell  _ anyone _ about it.

There was a certain thrill at first to hiding what you did after your break from CyberLife, at least officially. The biggest downer were your parents since they’d been your biggest cheering squad from day one. Your dad even got enough money together with his two jobs to buy you a car as soon as you had your license so you could go to dual enrollment classes at the local university. 

At least you were able to pretend you’d won the lottery a few months after telling them you were fired. It made giving them a lump of your “winnings” a lot less suspicious.

In a way, you weren’t lying. You really had won the lottery.

You stayed in your same apartment near downtown Detroit, ignoring the number in your bank account rising with each paycheck direct deposited into it by Kamski or Cyberlife or whoever. You’d worry about that later when tax season came knocking. It added to the sense your financial situation wasn’t as good as it was. And you  _ loved _ living there. There were so many androids!

Life was good. It was great. It was  _ perfect _ for months. You’d work on the tasks for Kamski and send them back as you completed them throughout the week. From the few schematics he teased you with you could tell EX-300 was coming along beautifully. Your mind could fill in the rest, though he kept most of the software plans a secret, feeding you  _ just _ enough to do your job. Then, he paid you handsomely. You had time to develop your own crafts and skills in the meantime, so long as you kept the work private.

Slowly, meticulously, Kamski sent you the parts to completely construct a new model. A prototype.  _ A purposefully deviant android. _ The day you were able to switch her on, finally, you’d describe as one of the best of your life. Watching her open her eyes and take in the world those first few minutes was indescribably wonderful. 

Then the day you’d predicted back at the Kamski estate happened, and much sooner than either of you expected.

In a rare phone call, on an otherwise wretched winter afternoon, Kamski told you he’d be sending another car to collect you in twenty minutes. This time you felt more comfortable, sitting calmly in one of the lounges by the pool while a Chloe offered you a drink.

“It’s starting, my friend. You’ll want to start preparing for the second stage.”

The deviants were rising.

You couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || 
> 
> Fuck it, let's do it live. This story has been sitting patiently in my Docs for a few weeks now and one of my friends (who this fic is gifted to) encouraged me to take the dive. I mean how could you not want to spend more time with well developed characters like the one in the game? **Stunning.**
> 
> It won't be following the story of the movie "The Parent Trap", by the way, let me tell you that RIGHT NOW. But the title is relevant. I promise.
> 
> This will also be cross-posted to FFN, and I'm on tumblr with the same username! Check it out above. Come say hello! Leave a review and let me know your thoughts, they really help boost me to keep writing.


	2. By the Cover of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you think they’ll react?”
> 
> This question was posed much more delicately. Your reflection in the window scowled slightly back at you. Instead of answering him right away you drank the last bit of your coffee.
> 
> The darkness of the miles flying by suddenly wasn’t so comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Not for the first or last time, you wished you could ignore sensory input like an android. Cold settled into your skin that you couldn’t shake after spending so much time out in the slick freezing rain. Though, you supposed the first sip of hot coffee after spending hours out in the freezing cold was  _ almost _ good enough to brush those thoughts away.

“I don’t understand your obsession with black coffee,” your partner, Pence Lombardy, said.

There was an unabashed look of disgust on his face. Just to spite him you took another sip, making sure to smack your lips a little. 

“It refills the darkness of my soul. I need to keep up appearances.”

Pence snorted. “You’re about as menacing as my infant.”

“I take that as a compliment. Let me know how they act in two years.”

Pence opened his mouth to retort again, but thought better of it, shutting it again with a shudder across his shoulders. You smiled again and drained more from your cup. He held the door for you when the two of you left the shop. Though you really weren’t ready to go back out it was necessary. There were still fifty miles left to travel before your destination. Pence turned up the collar of his coat and held a hand over his close-cropped hair, almost sprinting to the car ahead of you.

You and Pence Lombardy knew each other from your college days. When he was a senior, about to apply to be a graduate student in the engineering department, you were one of the youngest freshman students in the accelerated courses. He’d been the one in charge of your group and then was your professor for a few classes.

At first you’d worked alone, not talking to  _ anyone _ about the work you were doing for Kamski. That was isolating as all hell. One day, before you had completed the android, a phone number and burner phone were included in a shipment from the reclusive billionaire. Curious, you called the number immediately, and were ecstatic to recognize Pence’s voice. You’d fallen out of contact after you were both, officially at least, fired from CyberLife. It seemed he’d found himself in a similar situation. It made you wonder how many excommunicated employees Kamski had stored in his pockets. Neither of you were certain why Kamski brought you back together the way he did at first but when you discussed your directives from the founder of CyberLife, it was clear Pence was the one creating the code to the physical components you were shipped. 

It made sense then to get you both on the same page. You only contacted each other on the burner phones, Kamski instilling a deep sense of mistrust in regular technology for communication. He implied heavily that what you were doing had to remain a secret.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back home?” Pence asked.

“Too long, honestly. Since before the Kamski contract.” You pulled your feet up to sit cross-legged in the passenger seat. “I talk to my parents a few times a week but there’s not many other people I’m still connected to there. Everyone I knew or liked moved closer to Detroit like I did. We were all the same breed of robot nerds.”

Pence smiled fondly at you. His hands rested expertly on the steering wheel, though you knew the car was equipped with fully automatic piloting. He’d explained he found it comforting to have something to do on the long trip. You hadn’t driven a vehicle since you got your license six years ago so you didn’t see the same benefit. You innately trusted the artificial intelligence built into the machine - though if it came down to it, you were the one better equipped to repair it if something went wrong - and thoroughly enjoyed living in a world where you could fully appreciate the landscape rolling by in the moonlight.

“How do you think they’ll react?” 

This question was posed much more delicately. Your reflection in the window scowled slightly back at you. Instead of answering him right away you drank the last bit of your coffee. 

The darkness of the miles flying by suddenly wasn’t so comforting.

“Honored maybe? Though I hate lying to them like this.” Your breath fogged the window as you continued to speak, not looking at Pence. “Using luck and lottery as an excuse for all these ‘winfalls’ is getting tiring. Kamski was right that they’re the best ones to train her for her missions. My mother is a behavioral psychologist and my dad has tenure at the elementary school now, fourth grade. There are some things that we can’t wire into an android’s software and have to be learned by observation.”

Nodding, Pence said, “Like the bots we’re training to be occupational therapist assistants.”

“Yeah. Like that.” You scooted down in your seat until you could put your knees against the dashboard.

Neither of you spoke again for the next fifty miles. The only time your eyes strayed from the window next to you was to look into the backseat and to check on your very special delivery.

EX300 -  _ Lucille  _ \- slept peacefully in the middle of the bench seat. While you knew ‘sleep’ wasn’t the completely accurate term for what the android was doing, it felt right, and you stubbornly kept personifying the machine. 

A beautiful marriage of the programming and exoskeleton from four other models, one that wasn’t even in operation yet as far as you were aware, Lucille was a marvel. Currently she sported shoulder length chestnut brown hair, though, like all androids she had the ability to change that at will. Her synthetic skin was sunkissed, little moles and freckles dotting her skin, a perfect replica of someone’s skin after a summer spent outside. There were lines on her face meant to simulate the age of a woman of an ambiguous middle-age. You couldn’t think of another android made to purposefully appear aged the same way she was, at least not as deliberately. 

She wasn’t the first intentionally deviant android made by CyberLife. Kamski hadn’t said it in so many words, but he’d already confirmed what you’d found in the software long ago was the backdoor he created for himself for just that: deviancy. Every single android plugged with code from CyberLife - which was 100% of them right now, the company had a firm lead in the market - sat with the potential to gain their sentience naturally or to have the switch flipped for them, so to speak. He’d alluded to a single domino he’d placed on the field years ago with a friend, an android specifically designed to be able to change others of his kind by touch alone. You’d seen through the thinly veiled lines easily and ecstatically.

What your parents knew about this visit was you were bringing them a new android to assist them. They knew you still worked with androids but you hadn’t been able to tell them much of anything to keep the intellectual property safe, and deviancy was still “a dangerous mistake” to the public at large. Floored, they’d agreed almost immediately to taking in the android, with the instruction that she was not only to be a household help - your mother’s fibromyalgia was getting worse every year - but that she should be involved in their work lives as well.

“I know you have trouble getting around at work, too, mom,” you’d said on the phone. “Let her help you, okay?”

Your mother sighed, probably rolled her eyes, but finally agreed. 

What they didn’t know was Lucille was designed to attract deviant androids in the region and assist them in their transition to more autonomous existence. Most androids gained free will in emotionally damaging ways, pushed to psychological limits. Any human would need therapy after such grievances. See a need, fill a need. 

Kamski advised you the models chosen to help move things along were already deployed. All he told you was they were a “previously unreleased model line”. It didn’t take much thought for you to discover he meant the RK line. That was your motivation to include the schematics of those very unique bots in EX300’s design. She needed to be an intelligent and innovative sleeper agent in this area a few hours north of Detroit.

A bump on the icy road jostled all three of you when you crossed the county line. You rolled your eyes at the predictability of it. As advanced as the world had become, the small town you hailed from still didn’t put enough money into the roads, preferring to maintain the sports fields instead. Thankfully the rain had stopped at least so there wasn’t the risk of an accident past a few potholes.

“You shouldn’t sit like that, you’ll hurt your back.”

“Lucille, you’re awake.” The android’s soft admonishment had surprised you. You sat up so you could twist to look at her.

Her lips moved from a concerned frown to a smile now that you were sitting up. “Better. Are we almost there?”

You explained, “Not quite. You can rest longer if you need to.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather take in the scenery. My systems are sufficiently recharged.”

Scooting closer to the window, Lucille switched so she could wear the other seatbelt instead of the one in the middle. She pressed one hand to the cool glass and watched with wide eyes as the landscape slowly lightened with the sunrise. It was rising later and later each passing day, as it did every fall, and you tried to enjoy the relative peace of the view of the world slowly illuminating around you.

At precisely quarter after seven in the morning, as scheduled, Pence pulled the car into your parent’s driveway. Up and down the street their neighbor’s houses were in various states of decoration for Halloween. You were always proud of how much your block got into the  _ spirit _ of the holiday. You shared the pun with Pence and Lucille, who groaned and giggled at the joke, respectively.

Lucille’s face lit up with delight. That show of emotion made your heart flip with excitement and your stomach clench with nerves. You wanted so much for her to succeed. 

As soon as the car was parked you heard her unbuckle her seatbelt and start to open the door.

“Wait,” you said, turning sharply in your seat. You hadn’t even had time to unbuckle yourself but she was halfway out. Lucille paused and sat back down, looking at you hesitantly as if she’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to tell you before we go up there how proud I am of your progress. You’re astounding. Do you have any questions for me?”

In a look uncannily like a proud mother, mixed with slight embarrassment at your praise, Lucille leaned towards you. Her hand brushed over your cheek and rested there a moment. “Thank you, _______. And no, I don’t have any questions.”

Subconsciously you leaned into her touch a bit. Though in many ways you were the senior to this machine that you had helped create, and therefore was more of the mother biologically - bio component-wise that was - your roles still commonly reversed. But that was the nature of her programming. Lucille was meant to be nurturing and empathetic, allowed to feel the gamut of emotions, and she’d naturally latched onto you immediately. You’d rather think of her as your older sister. You didn’t have siblings. It felt nice to think of her that way.

Pence stayed quiet during the exchange, slowly getting out of the car to offer you two a moment of privacy.

“Remember your mission, Lucille,” you whispered. 

The soft fondness on her face morphed into determination and excitement. “Assist deviants. Compound knowledge for future missions. Blend in.”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded and smiled at her. There were far more intricate parts to her mission but that was the gist of it. You didn’t have time to go over everything just one more time. Both of you knew you were stalling. She lowered her hand and moved out of the car. Pence was already at the trunk taking out her single small piece of luggage. Lucy thanked him as she adjusted her jacket, the traditional armband displaying her android makeup clearly to anyone with a prying eye this early on a Saturday.

Yanking your hood over your head to protect your hair from the rain that started to fall again, you jogged from the car to the side porch. Your family rarely used the front door except to hang decorations on. Besides, the fewer neighbors that noticed you, the better. 

Technically you were never here. Just two faceless unknown CyberLife employees delivering the grand prize to the lucky couple.

You took a breath and punched in the passcode for the door, calling out to your parents the moment the door started to open. They both set down their mugs of coffee and greeted you with open arms. A tension you’d been ignoring since leaving your apartment with Lucille and Pence early that morning was finally starting to loosen a bit.

The second stage of the operation was well underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone checking this story out and interacting with it in various ways (seriously I die in a good way whenever I see a new email pop up about this one thank). But a few huge thank yous are due to some awesome people. Since I will be intentionally slow updating this one, not that that's different than my other stories per se? I want to make sure you all have some great stuff to read in the meantime. 
> 
> [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost) is one of the most creative people I know. She defies the "Jack of all Trades, Master of None" idea. If you like creative interpretations of canon she is your girl. Not only that but she's the reason this fic exists at all in any capacity, her comments and help are invaluable to me. [Numb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019199) is a fantastic story that also has some cute as fuck Connor x Reader moments mixed in with some serious topics. Buckle in and check it out!
> 
> [VampireZelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireZelda) has a [fantastic collection of one shots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984936) that I read before starting to write a fic of my own for this universe, and she has a great variety of genres! She's another that is great to chat with about this game!
> 
> Last but not least I've started reading [joliemariella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joliemariella)'s story [NYC: Become Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500859) which I highly recommend. Jolie always blows me away with what she creates.


	3. He is Style, He is Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...he falls flat down on his face
> 
> With the precision of a surgeon and the detail oriented method of an artist, you lost yourself in repairing and reconnecting the hardware in Connor’s left shoulder socket. Apparently he’d knocked his arm out of place when he’d fallen from a ledge just high enough onto the hood of the suspect’s car. Unorthodox, to be sure, and you’d known Connor for long enough to realize he wasn’t the most graceful android, but this was a new threshold of ridiculousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

“I’m going to throttle whoever decided parkour was a good program for androids to have,” you muttered under your breath.

“It’s a rather useful tool to have when pursuing suspects, I assure you.”

You brandished your multitool near Connor’s face in warning for his snark. He didn’t seem phased by your threat. On the contrary, it made it harder for him to hide a smirk. His cupid’s bow lips could remain stern in the toughest of professional situations, but he buckled easily in less serious ones, broadcasting his true feelings to his friends. As unaffected as he pretended to be, he still crossed his eyes slightly to watch you wiggle the end of the tool near the tip of his nose. 

“No sass allowed from an armless android,” you said sternly. 

“That is rule number forty three pertaining to my behavior during various stages of dismemberment.” He rattled off the fact as smoothly as he could while trying not to laugh.

You kept working in his shoulder cavity and warned, “Connor.”

The android was quiet after that, leaning back into the technician chair and closing his eyes. He couldn’t feel a thing that you’re doing, on purpose, so he’s able to relax his head back into the cushioned seat and keep that silly smirk on his face. 

Even in the stark light from your work lamp washing out his skin, you couldn't help but marvel at him. When Kamski told you a bit about the RK models, hypothetically of course, you had imagined wonderful craftsmanship but would never have dreamed them to be so...beautiful. You appreciated the aesthetic of the android race as a whole but there was something about _ this _ unique model that made your fingers itch and your mouth go dry. That reaction was reserved for Connor only. Meeting and interacting with Markus before, during, and after the successful deviant uprising you’d appreciated his aesthetic as well but more in a “where do you buy your clothes” sort of way.

You kept your thoughts as professional as possible as he sat in your chair. To get to his latest injury he had removed his jacket, undone his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt without even blushing once. You’d had to excuse yourself to “get more tools” to calm down. When you’d returned you’d swallowed against a dry throat at the sight of him sitting half shirtless waiting with one of his arms draped across his lap.

The freckles on his face went further down. A constellation across his torso you wanted to trace with your fingers.

Sometimes you thought he got damaged on purpose. Nothing he came to you with was life threatening or truly disfiguring so the more he arrived in your office in “various states of dismemberment” you started to keep tallies of when, where, why, and how. Thus, his cheeky remark at how many rules you’d imposed so far on his behavior while in your chair. You’d jot this latest bit down in your journal and get a good laugh later.

With the precision of a surgeon and the detail oriented method of an artist, you lost yourself in repairing and reconnecting the hardware in Connor’s left shoulder socket. Apparently he’d knocked his arm out of place when he’d fallen from a ledge  _ just _ high enough onto the hood of the suspect’s car. Unorthodox, to be sure, and you’d known Connor for long enough to realize he wasn’t the most graceful android, but this was a new threshold of ridiculousness.

“What happens when you do damage worse than a dislocated shoulder, huh, Connor?” you asked him.

“Are you saying you’re unable to fix me?”

You grabbed for his unattached arm on the table meaningfully and lift it as if you were going to thwap him with it.

“Look! You’re still armless - no sass! And I’m serious, you can’t keep pushing yourself to these limits just to see if you can.” Setting the arm back down after he appeared properly chastised, the idle threat dismissed, you get back to work. Your tongue stuck out between your lips a moment as you held your breath to tighten a tiny bolt buried beneath wires. The quiet was gentle but you break it. “You’re going to give Hank a heart attack if you keep this up.”

That kept him from making another wisecrack. He didn’t speak again until after the outer plate of his shoulder was back in place.

“There,” you say, easily connecting the arm back in its place. “Now get dressed, you’re making the room indecent.”

Though he’d been introspective since your admonishment, he returned to his slight smile expression and shook his head at you when you stepped back towards your desk to give him relative privacy. As if you didn’t just spend the last half hour essentially attempting to not  _ stare _ at his wonderful pectoral and abdominal regions.  You made the excuse to yourself that you were just appreciating the craftsmanship of another engineer, since you worked on the android hardware yourself and could truly notice the details. Telling yourself that made you feel less lecherous. 

As he smoothed the front of his jacket, you heard a chime from your phone on the desk beside you. You held up a hand to ask Connor to wait before leaving so you could take the call. You weren’t finished testing him yet anyway. The captain’s number flashed on the screen before you answered. 

“Engineering,” you answered, shoving the reciever between your shoulder and ear. “Yes, this is she. Hello, Captain.”

Connor stood patiently as you silently motioned with your arm at him. He quirked an eyebrow, looked confused for a moment, and then caught on. You were using your right arm as a mirror to ask him to copy you with his left, to make sure he still had full range of motion.

“I’ve got an android in my office waiting for her assignment. I’d like you to come up to put her through the diagnostic paces before I get her a desk.”

“Absolutely. I’m just finishing up with Connor,” you said to the Captain. “What model is she?”

“New one, s’far as her file says. You know I don’t keep track of that. Bring Connor with you when you come up here. I’ve got a meeting with him and Hank immediately after,” Captain Fowler said gruffly. 

The rustle of papers on the other line filled the call with interference that made you take the receiver away from your ear. You could tell by the wince on Connor’s face he could hear the Captain’s voice on the phone. He knew he was probably in trouble for getting damaged again though he didn’t exactly look contrite about it. You winced back in sympathy and reached out your hands to grab his left. You pressed against the false bones beneath the synthetic skin and tested to make sure he still had full dexterity. As expected, he did. You had no doubts of your skill. You ignored the little voice in your head telling you maybe you just wanted to hold his hand. All you were doing was procedure, nothing more.

When the call ended, so did Connor’s fitness test. Just to prove he was completely fine he brought the calibration coin out of his pocket to show you a few of his more complicated tricks. Placated and impressed, you patted him gently on the cheek and grabbed your jacket off the back of your chair. You preferred to just be in your t-shirt while working but that was when you were downstairs in the labs. The Captain preferred you to be in your uniform, of sorts. After working from home in jeans and jammies for over a year you’d gotten out of the habit of lab coats and slacks.

“I’m decent now, too, so let’s motor,” you said, leading the way out and up from the labs. 

The two of you kept up friendly conversation on the way to the Captain’s office. Along the way you picked up Hank from his desk, Connor bringing him a fresh cup of coffee from the break room. A familiar swell of emotion rose in your chest at the exchange between the Lieutenant and the android. The moment you’d met the two of them six months ago their father and son dynamic was plain as day. Each story you’d heard of their escapades before your arrival at the precinct just solidified that fact. It made your android-loving heart proud to see that strong of bond between them.

Hank prodded at Connor’s newly repaired arm, cautiously, and admonished him for his carelessness the same as you did. Now Connor had the audacity to act sheepish instead of snarky like he had with you. Double standards. You rolled your eyes and let it happen, not surprised in the least.

Together your group walked into the Captain’s office, Connor holding the door for you and Hank. You were too busy making a face at him over your shoulder to tease him for his politeness, earning a wink back that makes your stomach flutter with butterflies, to notice the android sitting in the Captain’s guest chair. When you turned around to greet the new android the butterflies in your stomach abruptly stopped fluttering and fell to the pit of your gut. 

You were no trained actor or secret agent so it was a miracle you didn’t react too much on the outside. Behind you, though, Connor immediately noted the difference in your heart rate and tense body language. He’d studied you enough in the last few months to know your tells for high stress.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” the android said. She flicked her head slightly to move her perfectly trimmed auburn bangs out of her eyes. “My name is Lucille, the android sent by CyberLife.”

Stage three had started without you noticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Hey! FUN FACT I live in the Greater Detroit Metro Area. I've lived in this state my entire life. So any references I make to real places, I've been there, yo (except for in-game locations, we've all "been" there). 
> 
> I love your comments. Let me know what your favorite part was, how I'm doing on characterization, anything! I wait with bated breath...


	4. EX300

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’d chosen to be a redhead, not the brunette you last saw. Her bangs were just long enough she had to toss her head to move them away, and the rest gathered in a bun at the base of her head. When she walked closer you could see she’d included several white hairs near her temple, and more were streaked randomly throughout her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Lucille’s nameplate and badge proclaimed her new position at the DPD was “Analyst”. The intentionally vague term quirked a few eyebrows on her first walkthrough of the department.

You knew better. There just wasn’t an official title for an android forensic behavioral consultant yet. The laws surrounding that were far too new, and the HR department was honestly dragging their feet on creating roles for androids. No surprises there, but it still made your skin itch with anger. Luckily, no one looked twice at her, except to oggle her beauty in the case of a couple rookies walking through the bullpen. You glared at them until they caught your look and scampered away.

The woman was designed to be charming and won over nearly everyone she interacted with as soon as they’d exchanged names. Very few people in the department were phased by working with an android anymore since Connor was a constant presence. Detective Reed was reluctantly welcome towards her which was no surprise. The man was a jackass in general but not a bad person. So long as his bias didn’t get in the way of his work, or Lucille’s, that was manageable, and much better than his initial treatment of Connor. You weren’t around the DPD at the time but had heard enough stories to justify your instant dislike of the detective.

It took several months sitting alone in your empty apartment to spur you to apply at the DPD in the first place. You were ecstatic, obviously, that the whole revolution had happened as peacefully as it did. When Detroit was evacuated you’d stuck close to the city, nearly foaming at the mouth to get back into it after the evacuation was lifted. You helped any android that needed it but it didn’t feel like enough. You trolled job listings for hours every day searching for the right one until you heard, by word of mouth, about the DPD firing their Head Android Technician, their HAT, for reasons related to prejudice. The job matched your education and experience perfectly.

Over a year of working for Kamski and the months following Lucille’s deployment, you’d brushed off or ignored your friends into non existence. Between the inability to talk about your work and the work itself keeping you busy you faded slowly but surely away from them. Now it felt awkward to reach out. Too awkward to try. And you still had the secret double life weighing on you. There was way too much money in your bank accounts you could not explain. You lived in constant fear that saying the wrong thing to the wrong person would tip off the IRS about your - unintended - tax evasion or your under the table work on androids in general.

Better, then, to move forward without looking back.

You hadn’t seen Lucille since you’d dropped her off at your parent’s house the October before the deviant uprising. That was getting close to a year ago. The communications between you got more infrequent as she continued to carry out her missions. Up until then, she always reported success, advising you she was reporting to Kamski separately so you didn’t need to.

At least nothing in her wiring was ever connected to the rest of Cyberlife the way other androids were. That meant her entire life had been her own the moment she woke up and it would take dismantling of her exoskeleton to truly reach inside and find out how well the two of you actually knew each other.

The idea made your already upset stomach lurch.

As you’d hoped, she was successful in helping deviants who made their transitions in less than satisfactory ways. From the way she looked, how she sounded, and the programs installed in her systems, she was meant to be the optimal model for therapy, focused entirely on androids. Though, to be honest you had found her to be a great helper and soundboard for human issues, too.

Lucille had had the luxury of a smooth, voluntary transition from waking as an android and then _waking_ as an individual. Most didn’t have that option, awoken by a visceral fight or flight pulling their free will to live up and out. Androids living outside the city were less common than their urban counterparts. Two decades hadn’t completely softened rural residents of the state to embrace them. Your parents were the exception and therefore made great candidates for training Lucille.

They had gotten along _swimmingly_ so far as you were told. You’d gotten picture chats sent several times a week of the group watching television together, Lucille reading your mother’s textbooks and notes from when she was in college, so many cute domestic moments.

You knew from a phone call with your mother after getting the job at the DPD that Lucille had been returned to CyberLife after their “trial” had ended. There wasn’t a good opportunity for you to ask what she’d been up to the last six months. Once you secured the job at the precinct the texts and calls all but halted. It was too suspicious for you to continue to contact her. Technically you weren’t supposed to know her at all. You hated the secrecy and frankly didn’t understand it. At the time you tried to trust that Kamski was right and that there were still enough issues present with android autonomy that your actions working under the table for him could get you in legal trouble.

What was the phrase? Never meet your heroes? You were learning that the hard way.

The money - hush money, you thought bitterly - and access to all the CyberLife data you could ever want came with a heavy price you never expected to pay.

Loneliness.

Though things were moving in the right direction in society there was no telling when technicians - robot docs - like you would be completely absolved of wrongdoing. The line was still blurred between what the robots were _programmed_ to do and what they chose to do of their own free will. As well meaning as most humans were towards androids, there was still a big enough swath of humans that were real pieces of shit and did not agree with the new world order one way or another. If it were discovered you were purposefully making androids that were deviant long before the uprising that could cause a legal shitstorm. Deviants had _killed_ people. Those were justified in your opinion. Self defense! You’d seen case files, courtesy of Hank and Connor.

Well, not _all_ deviated androids were well-intentioned. Daniel, the PL600 from the rooftop report last summer was one good example. And North. You pulled a face thinking about her and how easily she picked the more violent option when given a choice. But that was the reason you fought for and believed so much in deviancy. It gave the androids a _choice_.

But there wasn’t enough legal precedent to keep you protected. Especially if Kamski decided to be a dick and not help defend you. Fucking fair weather friend.

So, you kept your purposeful deviant work a secret, thankful you still were able to work with androids at all. Though it didn’t mean that Lucille’s appearance at the precinct was necessarily good for you. It opened a whole new can of worms to your problems.

You loved her. The same sisterly fondness you formed with her before fell over you like your favorite quilt. Your heart felt full and heavy at the same time with its weight. She represented everything you were proud of but also everything that Kamski held over your head.

A conundrum, to be sure.

Instead of watching her make her rounds, you stared into your cup of black coffee, watching the film on top stick to the walls of the cardboard cup. Someone should clean the coffee maker. You drank it anyway to have something to do while you waited. Lucille’s fitness test was the only thing in your afternoon lineup since Captain Fowler had so _helpfully_ cleared your other appointments: calibrations that could wait another day, upgrades that weren’t urgent. They had a new forensic behavioral specialist on the roster that needed to be on-boarded post haste and since she was android you were the only one who could do it. Well, you had another technician on staff, but Rayne was only part time while going to school and wasn’t cleared to do these tests by herself yet. She wasn’t even here today anyway so-

Lucille rapped her knuckles gently on the table in front of your gaze. Your head snapped up to look at her, train of thought thrown out the window.

She’d chosen to be a redhead, not the brunette you last saw. Her bangs were just long enough she had to toss her head to move them away, and the rest gathered in a bun at the base of her head. When she walked closer you could see she’d included several white hairs near her temple, and more were streaked randomly throughout her head. That paired with the artificial lines on her face created the appearance of age. It worked well with the hairstyle to give her an older, more professional feel. If you didn’t know any better you would have guessed her closer to Hank’s age. A majority of androids were ambiguously aged  between early twenties and early thirties. There were even dozens of freckles across her cheeks and face. Those were much lighter than the kind Connor had, like a true redhead would have.

Detail oriented as always.

You wanted to tell her how much you loved the way she was styling her hair, so close to the television character she had adored to watch after you first activated her. Not needing sleep she’d stayed awake all night watching _The Golden Girls_ and _I Love Lucy_ reruns. When it came down to her deciding a name for herself - something that was very important to you, that she pick it - she’d thought long and hard between Sophia and Lucy, eventually settling on the more professional version of her favorite: _Lucille_.

You wished you were as happy to see her as you wanted to be instead of fighting the rotten feeling in your gut but you hid it well enough to smile back at her.

“Are you ready for me to put you through your paces?” you asked. You tried to scowl and use one of the looks Hank would give Connor sometimes to insinuate seriousness. It didn’t quite work, but it did ease the tension between you two. Lucille saw through the posturing, buoyant mood not sinking an inch.

“Absolutely. Lead on, _______.”

Her short heels echoed a bit as you made your way back down the stairwell. Detective Reed had been headed for the elevator and you weren’t prepared to deal with him yet. You two enjoyed needling each other, making no bones about how neither of you really _liked_ the other, just _tolerated_. You weren’t sure you would be able to hide how agitated you were and he was still a good enough detective to notice the cause was the android next to you and possibly deduce things you weren’t comfortable with.

Lucille took note of your tense state and didn’t speak again until the door to your office was closed behind you. You released a breath and lifted your hand to your mouth to start chewing on a thumbnail. The habit only reared its head when you were very upset or stressed. Typically you didn’t realize you were doing it at all.

Gently, Lucille reached for your hand to pull it from your mouth. She lifted the hand not holding yours up to her mouth in a shushing motion to keep you quiet a moment longer. Then, she cast her gaze around the room to spot the security cameras. The irises in her eyes flexed momentarily as she stared at each one, verifying that there wasn’t operational sound recording equipment. Video feed couldn’t be helped.

Her voice was still soft when she spoke, in case someone walked by. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you I was on my way.”

You winced. Judging by her tone she thought you were mad _at her_. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been avoiding dealing with this until you arrived.” You realized how bad that sounded and rolled back immediately. “I am ecstatic you’re here, don’t misunderstand me.”

“I know,” she said placatingly. Her arms twitched up a bit like she wanted to hug you, but she moved them to cross over her chest instead. Cameras, after all. “I’m excited to continue my mission alongside you and the rest of the DPD.”

Fully aware you were being recorded on the security cameras, you moved to the workbench to bring out the toolset you’d had for Connor not an hour before. Enough of her parts were designed with the RK line in mind that they would work, but you nabbed a few AX model tools just in case.

Lucille hung her jacket on the coat rack. Her relatively plain uniform was an off white button down, red belt, and a dark pair of khakis...she was dressed in a strange amalgamation of your mother’s and father’s styles. The distinct lack of holographic patches to mark her as an android made you a bit less on edge. You’d seen her wear that style once, and only once, the day you’d dropped her off at your parent’s house. She’d never had to wear something like that while living with you.

“I have to download some files before tomorrow to evaluate the weakest points in the staff.”

“You can do some of that while I test you,” you explained.

There was a wire long enough to reach from your computer terminal to connect to her. Wireless was an option but wired was always faster, especially down in the basement labs. You pulled it with you on the short walk from your desk to the technician chair. You blinked away the image in your head of Connor seated where she was now earlier that day.

She look the wire from you and connected without needing to plug it in anywhere - her design allowed her to move away some of her synthetic skin to connect with her chassis. The LED on the side of her head spun a steady yellow as she processed. While her eyes fluttered under her eyelids you ran a few tests that didn’t need her active participation. Reflexes, diagnostics with a data pad you kept on your hip at all times while working, and various small tests. Those were more for the precinct’s benefit than yours or Lucille’s. There would be a record on file in case you or the other technicians needed a strong basis of data in case she showed signs of an anomaly or problem. It would be easier to weed out the variables.

You breathed a sigh of relief she seemed to show no traces of contracting the strange viral-like contagion that swept through androids a few months ago. Nothing life-threatening if treated immediately, the flu-like virus moved through groups of androids much faster than individual ones. Just like any other epidemic, you had thought ruefully, so similar to humans. You had spent several nights in Jericho tending to people who’d never been sick before and didn’t know what to do. Connor blessedly didn’t catch it, but North and Simon had, and you did all you could to get them back to rights as quickly as possible. Recalling how attentive Markus was the entire time you were working with Simon made your lips twitch into a fond smile. You hoped you would find a love like that one day.

Lucille was watching you closely as you let your thoughts wander, her download completed. “You got a new tattoo.”

Since you were in work mode her speaking didn’t startle you, but the question made you raise an eyebrow. There was a caffeine molecule tattoo on your right forearm just out of sight covering the scar from an accident when you were a teenager. You’d gotten another in the last few months to cover the other scar on your right shoulder.

“How do you know that?” you asked, eyes narrowed.

“I can see some of it above your collar,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Aren’t you a behavioral analyst android, not a detective?” you teased.

She smiled, laugh lines crinkling by her eyes. “I’m an android of many talents.”

You smiled back at her. She sat up when you beckoned her to, and you started the rest of your tests. “I’ll show it to you later. Maybe over drinks sometime?”

“I’d love that,” she said.

The rest of the tests took a few hours, eating up the remainder of your day. Lucille didn’t have time that day after work to catch up like you both wanted to since she needed to get settled in her new home. There were a few apartment buildings and condos open for android residents near the New Jericho neighborhood.

Connor and Hank were off to investigate a scene so you missed saying goodnight to them. Instead you sent Connor a text to wish them luck on their case. You knew he would relay the message to the lieutenant. You walked out of the office with Lucille, then, and your paths crossed for a block before you took different corners for home.

After the emotional rollercoaster of a day you took your time making a meal you loved and queued up a few episodes of a show you’d meant to catch up on weeks ago. It was only a matter of time before the plot twists were spoiled for you, since you knew a lot of people were talking about this one.

Sitting on your couch with a glass of spiked soda and an empty plate next to you, you started to feel like maybe you were overreacting at work. You let yourself get too worked up when you saw Lucille. Enjoying having her around again should be your main concern, not the ambiguous threats of how you’d earned your money from Kamski. Those weren’t even definite. You were just worried that somehow you could go to prison for the work you did, the lines weren’t drawn very carefully yet. Pence might have some insight on it, though.

Still, you fretted until you took a shower and went to bed.

Tomorrow. You’d figure out a way to talk to Pence about what to do tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Hey there!! As promised, I'm posting slowly but surely. This _is_ a mystery after all so I need to make sure the right clues are placed throughout. Let me know what you think about the backstory in this chapter! It will definitely help me shape the story to come.
> 
> **NEWS FLASH** VividlyLost is an invaluable gem of a person and if you like this fic even a little you have her to thank for it. The best way to thank her is to go read her amazing DBH fics and leave nice comments.


	5. To Undo What's Been Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wipes started not long after Markus went public, commandeering the TV station to spread his message of peace and equality. Afraid their androids would go deviant, people started looking up methods to keep them compliant. To keep them as slaves. Wouldn’t you know it, there was a market for that already, and had been getting more sophisticated since the first few androids started to deviate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Tomorrow was too soon. You kept pushing it back until a month passed without truly dealing with what Lucille’s re-emergence might mean for you.

The coffee maker in the break room was broken when you arrived to work one morning. You didn’t even need to take two steps into the department to hear three complaints about it. Truth be told you brought your own in a travel mug that was enough to get you through to your lunch break when you’d have another chance to go out and get more if need be. It also helped keep you warm on your walk to work as the weather started to chill. 

But, the moment you saw the look on Hank’s face when passing him in the hall, you held your mug out immediately.

“I’ve only taken a couple sips,” you said. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

Hank looked dubiously at you before spotting the obnoxiously sized serving of coffee you were offering. Another bad habit you picked up at college and your brief stint at CyberLife’s main office, your coffee dependency rivaled Hank’s. Though you weren’t kidding that he needed it more than you did - you could handle drinking something else for a change for your caffeine. You had enough cash to buy an energy drink from the machine and there were always tea bags in the canteen. Hank  _ hated _ those.

“Thanks, kid. This is fucking heavenly,” he said after a few seconds of deliberation of whether to take the offer or not. “C’mon, I gotta ask you something anyway.”

Curiosity piqued, you followed the lieutenant now holding your coffee mug. He discreetly wiped the mouthpiece with his sleeve before starting to chug it. You caught Connor’s eye as you approached his desk next to Hank’s. He smiled at you, mouthing  _ thank you _ when he quickly realized where his partner’s coffee fix came from. 

Those damned butterflies came back full force.

Hank settled heavily into his desk chair. You hadn’t seen him this exhausted in weeks. Even Connor looked slightly glassy eyed, even though he technically didn’t need sleep. You assumed the case that took them away from the office at all times of the day and night was wearing them thin. With the huge influx of android-related cases post-revolution the two experts in the office were kept busy constantly. You moved to stand behind Hank and Connor’s connected stations.

“What’s up?” you asked.

“Bunch of bullshit, is what. We had a decent lead last night but someone wiped our witness. Was hoping you might be able to help with that.”

“Wiped?” your tone fell, assuming you knew what he meant.

Connor spoke up. “Yes. The AX400 model that was our only witness to the crime had her memory wiped between the anonymous call into the hotline and when we reached the rendezvous point. We were preparing to take her into witness protection.”

His voice was carefully neutral. It sent chills up your arms to listen to him sound so detached. Typically he had so much expression when speaking but when he was upset, which the LED on his head twisting yellow made obvious, that tone changed completely. 

You laid a hand on his shoulder gently to wordlessly console him. A wiped android was an unsettling sight to anyone that understood what that meant. None more so than androids themselves. Especially those that embraced their free will. 

“Wiped” was a term you first heard in Jericho when a disturbing trend of androids getting their entire database, and essentially their personalities, their  _ senses of self, _ erased. Hollowed out. Some humans were more afraid of losing the conveniency of androids to care that they were, in many ways,  _ killing them  _ from the inside out. It was callous. 

It was disgusting.

Wipes started not long after Markus went public, commandeering the TV station to spread his message of peace and equality. Afraid their androids would go deviant, people started looking up methods to keep them compliant. To keep them as slaves. Wouldn’t you know it, there was a market for that already, and had been getting more sophisticated since the first few androids started to deviate. USB style connections were unfortunately more effective but some managed to use other CyberLife products to force the android to interface and take in the malicious code. They affected only the internal workings of the android and left the physical body unharmed. Some androids reported being able to fight it off, and the authors of the code were caught and apprehended once more android rights were put in place, but it was like a wildfire - once one place was extinguished it seemed another problem flared up behind you.

But there was still a glimmer of hope if the wipe wasn’t complete. A rush of adrenaline flooded your body and you asked, “The wipe, was she totally gone then? How did you find her?” 

“A note was left on her body and forensics has it to search for fingerprints,” Connor explained tautly. “Otherwise I might have interfaced with her to see why she was lying on the ground.”

That made your stomach drop. If Connor had touched her after a wipe was initiated...but he hadn’t, so you tried not to think about the potential viral consequences.

“So that means there’s a chance, and if she isn’t in my lab I will go and  _ get her _ ,” you said emphatically, slapping your thighs in agitation.

Without missing a beat, Hank picked up the phone on his desk and made a call to evidence to move the android. 

So long as she was still on, and in standby mode, there was a chance. A slim one, but a chance. Depending on how the wipe was attempted you knew how to undo it. Technically. A high risk of damage or personality change existed, similar to humans falling into a coma or getting amnesia, but the technology was there. They deserved the chance to live. The one android you’d managed to help before described the feeling as being trapped in the hardware and software, unable to move or execute commands to their own body, a lightless prison. 

Your heart and stomach lurched at the idea this one could still be there buried under digital rubble. Prickles of adrenaline bloomed in your body as it and your mind started to prep you for what could be hours of robotic surgery. You were anxious to begin immediately. There was no time to waste.

“What’s her name? Is she here in the precinct?” Your voice automatically followed Connor’s tone, trying to hide how upset you were. Focusing on what you  _ could  _ do rather than was already done was less uncomfortable. You purposefully used present tense to instill some hope into the android beside you.

Hank caught your sharp look as he hung up his phone. “Her name is Penelope. That new android is with her already.”

“Lucille, yeah. That makes sense. She’s our...analyst. Thanks for the heads up guys, I’ll see what I can do.” You started to rush away to the labs where the androids would no doubt be waiting. At least Lucille knew to move her before you got there.

A hand stalled you before you moved away. Connor had stood from his chair and started to follow you. His hands enveloped one of yours, gently keeping you back for a moment longer. He looked...distressed. You noted his LED was yellow but looked near orange in tiny bursts as it threatened to go red.

“Let me help you,” he said earnestly. “I...I might be able to be of assistance.”

Your heart went to your throat. The entire situation made you tense and upset, but whatever you felt Connor likely was feeling tenfold. The empathy this android radiated was deeper than most humans you knew - his greatest strength and sometimes biggest weakness post-deviancy. 

Connor stared at you and waited for permission to join you. There was unmistakable pleading in the downward curve of his lips and twist in his brow. If you told him no, you knew he would obey, but you balked at answering immediately. Bouncing on the balls of your feet you considered your answer.

Hank looked between the two of you, concern apparent on his face, too. You looked to him to start to ask if he needed Connor. He held up a hand to stall you. “If Connor can help you I’m sure the Captain will be fine with it. Besides, she’s our best lead and we can’t move forward until we know if she has information or not.”

Part of you had hoped Hank would encourage Connor to stay or distract him somehow, but you could tell whatever argument you gave next would be on shaky ground. Something was bugging you about the situation. You wanted to listen to your gut but Connor looked so upset, so determined. Was it just his naturally inquisitive nature pushing him to ask this? His desire to close the case? Or something deeper, some dark fascination? You couldn’t tell.

You sighed, twisting your hand between Connor’s so you could grip his, and try to instill the gravity of the situation. His fingers were warm and gentle. “It’s not going to be pleasant. Lucille was built to do stuff like this and I’m...Connor, are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Connor. Do you promise to do exactly as I say, up to and including leaving the lab when ordered? No matter what?”

Very rarely did you use that sort of language with him, appealing to his software and how it operated before free will. It gave him pause. The LED kept cycling yellow on the side of his head. He met you gaze for gaze, blinking once or twice as he took your question seriously. Connor nodded and repeated the promise back to you. For the first time that morning you saw his LED cycle from yellow to blue. It didn’t last long. Seeing even the small flash still bolstered you, though; Connor trusted you to know what to do.

You hoped you did.

Lucille wasted no time unlocking your lab door when you arrived.

“I was going to call you but they brought her in only a few minutes before your scheduled arrival time,” she said in a rush. Her eyebrows were pulled together in concern. Her eyes were locked on the android tailing you into the room. “Connor, I was not aware you would be-”

“He wants to help,” you said, cutting her off.

It was clear Lucille did not approve of having Connor in the room - you couldn’t be sure of her opinion on it, exactly, not without asking her and risk Connor overhearing. You explained all you knew from Hank to fill the awkward silence.

Confirming what you already knew, Lucille nodded. “Penelope underwent an unauthorized attempt to wipe her hard drive. There are signs in her psyche of resistance to the intrusion which leads me to believe-”

“You scanned her without me?” you exclaimed. Your hands were elbow deep in a sink to scrub your arms clean for open-android surgery. “You could have been damaged!”

“There was minimal risk to my software or hardware, _______. I assessed the possibility of personal damage to be 78.5% lower than the opportunity to collect important data for the victim.”

The lecturing tone sounded crazily similar to your mother. She learned more than just a few wardrobe tips from her, then.

“Fine,” you said petulantly.

Instead of fighting either of them, you delivered precise orders for each of them to make sure they weren’t carrying any contaminants to your clean room. You would be opening up her inner chest cavity and exposing the parts that made up her physical body underneath. It was the only way to reach her inner workings, the things that made her  _ her _ . 

Without prior knowledge of who she was you were nervous at your chances of success. You didn’t ask either android with you to calculate that. Lucille would provide it readily but neither you or Connor needed to hear it. 

The way he was acting worried you. Connor had seen more dead bodies than anyone should have to, working in the homicide division. For all that you had no knowledge of his experience with wiped androids. That was a whole other fucked up kettle of fish. From the way he talked before, Hank obviously had, since he was adequately disturbed by the thought. It was a technique even the most amateur humans could get their hands on, like inserting a corrupted flash drive into a computer. No know-how was needed to cause a huge problem. WIthout knowing what was used to wipe her you didn’t know how successful you would be trying to pull her back out, to rid her of whatever malware or corrupting material had affected her. 

You decided to be more direct with Connor about the situation than you would normally. It alleviated some of the tension and unease in your stomach.

“How are you feeling about this Connor?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a neutral expression. The zipper on the lab coat he’d grabbed from a nearby locker was still undone so you prodded him so you could do that up for him. His LED flickered to red once or twice as he considered your question.

“I am...unsure. The consequences of being wiped are relatively foreign to me. I am aware of what it means logically, I have the definition for the slang term, but I am having trouble processing what it means to me personally.”

You were afraid of that. Trying to be gentle, to not make him feel as though he was unwelcome, you pushed further. “Why are you so adamant to be here for this?”

“It’s part of my mission. I always complete my mission.” He motioned to have you turn so he could help you with your lab coat the way you had with his. You slipped on your non-conductive gloves as he did. “I...there is a compulsion inside of me that drives me to help. It wasn’t externally received. I believe you and Hank have described such a phenomenon as a  _ gut feeling. _ ”

At his words  _ your  _ gut lurched. He wanted to observe because of his own instinct. That was harder to argue against - illogical things like feelings always were - and the last thing you wanted to do was deny his every blooming range of emotion and awareness. Instead, you pushed aside the last bits of your uneasiness to move into a practiced mode of operation. You had an important task at hand and you were one of the only people on the planet who not only had the training to work on such a delicate operation, you’d done it once before. You had to be focused.

You stood in front of the door between your lab and the safe room. On the other side, Penelope was lying under a stark fluorescent lamp, in standby mode and waiting for you. Both of your android companions noticed your pause. You took a deep breath that moved your shoulders up and down. Looking over your shoulder, you beckoned the other two with a jerk of your head, opening the door to the operating room. Waiting any longer would only make you more nervous.

“I believe in you,” Connor said. His eyes watched you intently, and he did his best to give you an encouraging smile even though he was still obviously distraught from the situation.

That little extra nudge was what you needed. Head clearer than it had been all morning, you hid your pleased blush by practically marching into the room.

You had a long day ahead of you. No time like now to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> _rubs hands together evilly_ Buckle up buttercups here comes some heckin plot your way. Lemme know what your favorite part was in the comments, or if you have questions! Your comments keep more story coming.
> 
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas. Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3! Her writing is fantastic.


	6. Under the (Figurative) Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do not remove your synthetic skin for any reason. There's a good chance this wipe can spread like the other viruses I've seen in New Jericho and before the revolution - all of them spread through interfaces. Actually, put these rubber gloves on and don't remove them. I don't want to chance even a small electrical current passing from her to you. That's a risk we will not be taking today." Both of them nodded in agreement. You took a shuddering inhale. “Alright. Let’s see the real damage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Walking into the safe room, the androids right behind you, memories flooded you of the last time you’d been able to accomplish a wipe reversal. Your hands moved on autopilot as you let those images fly past your consciousness. You experienced them all over again but in reality the whole mental process took less than a minute. Marvels of the human brain.

Between delivering Lucille to your parents for ‘training’ and Markus’s rise as the leader of the de facto android resistance, you’d been living in your apartment and floundering, waiting for something to _happen._ Since activating Lucille and going through the directives Kamski delivered, you’d not heard a single word from the reclusive billionaire. Each time you left your home you would catch yourself staring at androids being forced to live as slaves to human owners. The lack of free will made leaving home uncomfortable for you, but you forced yourself to do it anyway, taking a seat in the various neighborhoods and parks around the city to just...observe.

You blamed your mom for your interest in this sort of people watching. Behavioral psychologist, after all.

Most humans regarded the androids as another machine or toy, like the way people treated their phones back when touch screens were introduced. Your parents had told you all about the way they grew up in the nineties and the following decades as internet and technology grew more and more integrated into society. When androids were first introduced they compared it constantly to the invention of the obsolete tech: the iPhone. Bigger advancements were made in the decades since that. You didn’t mind those humans much. While not actively giving their purchases a better life, they weren’t exactly being mistreated. That was a more comfortable platform to build acceptance than others.

The ones that bothered you deeply were those almost purposefully mistreating them. Many times you had to leave and go home to pace, seethe, and sometimes cry to avoid making a scene. There was no law you could cite that said what the human was doing to their android was wrong. They were _property_ not people. Some displays of mistreatment were disgusting, even more so that they were done in broad daylight, in front of shops or in bus stops, at the drugstore, walking down the street.

You _hated it_.

One day you couldn’t just go home and vent your anger at the world. You itched to be productive, to do something about the injustice. Kamski warned you to be under the radar though so it took you hours laying on the floor staring angrily at the ceiling to decide what to do.

Your sleep patterns were entirely fucked from working from home for almost a year at that point. So, you were venturing late at night two weeks after Lucille went to live with your parents. Though you didn’t realize it until later, it was Devil’s Night. The night before Halloween. Historically the night was one of the most destructive and dangerous to be out wandering alone on the streets of Detroit. You hadn’t been keeping track of the date without someone or something to keep you on a schedule. The checks were still arriving from Kamski every two weeks so you had more money than you knew what to do with until you realized you could buy spare parts, using cash to make it harder to trace, and bring those parts and blue blood to the deviants.

Giddiness fueled you. In your backpack you carried thousands of dollars worth of invaluable parts you either repaired from the scrapyard or purchased new from CyberLife stores around the city. You’d managed to scan the frequency androids used to communicate to piece together where deviants were possibly hiding. The binary code was scrambled, expertly, but you had asked Lucille to decode what you found via encrypted email and she replied one word:

_Jericho._

You didn’t know where to start but you didn’t have to reinvent the wheel either. Kamski somehow knew what you were attempting. You guessed your email communication to Lucille wasn’t as safe as you predicted, but at the time you weren’t bothered by his intrusion. It resulted in another phone number to call from your burner phone. Kamski told you a name and an address and from there you easily found a business phone number. When you called, you had had to force yourself to keep your voice from trembling with excitement.

“Chapman Farm.”

The voice on the other line sounded warm. You tried to contain your giddiness when you had asked, “Is this Rose?”

“Yes, this is she, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to ask you about an internship?”

The rest of the call went quickly, few words exchanged with a deeper code hidden in them. An “internship” with Rose Chapman meant you had a line of information about androids that went deviant by themselves. She helped you find androids in the city that were acting like normal but had what you needed in order to help. With Rose’s assistance you were on your way to Jericho to bring them the supplies they desperately needed, as well as training some of them finer points of fixing themselves. You would never have enough time to do more than basic first aid. Your efforts still didn’t feel significant enough to you though you felt better _doing_ something.

On only your fourth visit like this to the enclave, you entered carefully with the assistance of a trusted android named Henry. He made a comment that it was an unsafe night to travel alone and someone would be taking you back to your apartment. You expected to drop off the equipment and leave relatively quietly like you had all the other times.

You were wrong.

In the roughly constructed sick bay there was an android laid out unmoving. At first you mistook them for another shutdown shell. But, at closer inspection, you saw the LED running a solid red.

“They were wiped,” an android nearby explained. An AC700 model you didn’t know the name of, it looked at you with desperation, his one good eye staring at you intensely. “Some kind of thumb drive he was forced to interface with, we don’t know what to do with him. No one can touch him without...”

The AC700 trailed off but you understood. Androids diagnosed each other through an interface and if what wiped them was contagious it could be catastrophic. Another android nearby was completely shutdown, carried carefully by an android towards the de facto graveyard Jericho used. You could put two and two together regarding what had happened to the android.

You got to work immediately.

The process took three hours to complete. You were afraid it might take longer since you had no prior experience. Somehow the android, a HR400 model named James, was still under the surface of convoluted malware and firewalls he couldn’t break alone. The method was a perverted version of the resets you knew were done internally at CyberLife. Anger boiled inside of you when you realized the attack was designed to _only_ attack the parts of the android that made them deviant and would leave the machine shell untouched. An android lobotomy in a sense.

When you were back on the pier after repairing James, you threw up over the railing until you couldn’t anymore.

Penelope was attacked by far less sophisticated methods than what you’d seen in James the HR400 which made your job messy. It seemed that now there were laws protecting androids the methods were getting more desperate and secretive. From the little you knew, this poor android had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice. First to witness one of the highest profile murders in Detroit in years and second when she was found and attacked and forced to intake a wipe.

You did your best to explain the help you needed to Lucille and Connor as they awaited your orders.

"Do not remove your synthetic skin for any reason. There's a good chance this wipe can spread like the other viruses I've seen in New Jericho and before the revolution - all of them spread through interfaces. Actually, put these rubber gloves on and don't remove them. I don't want to chance even a small electrical current passing from her to you. That's a risk we will _not_ be taking today." Both of them nodded in agreement. You took a shuddering inhale. “Alright. Let’s see the real damage.”

Almost all of Penelope’s synthetic skin was gone now, a sign her status was declining rapidly. Without her sense of self to combat it her system was trying to put her back to the factory reset. So anything she may have done to personalize or modify herself was deteriorating. It made it easier for you to move your tool beneath a plate on the side of her head, though, so you counted your small blessings. The piece moved away easily and allowed you to connect your ever-present diagnostic tool to her.

With the precision you were known for, you attached wires and machines to different parts of her, focusing mainly on her central cortex where most of _her_ would be stored or hidden against the attack. Connor and Lucille followed you closely with their eyes, keeping their distance as requested.

“Lucille, bring me the needle nose pliers with the green handles,” you said, face as close as it could be to the cords of wires exposed in Penelope’s neck. One hand worked the delicate wires aside to find the main ‘artery’ of information between her brain and the rest of her body. “Connor, speculum set please.”

Both androids were relieved to have tasks to do. The speculum set rested on the table next to you and the pliers were set into your waiting hand.

“Lucille, your hands are smaller than Connors. Hold…” you searched your tool set, “...this speculum open for me. Move in micrometers until I tell you to stop.”

And so it went, short instructions for your assistants as you plugged in the vital parts of Penelope to the computer in the corner of your surgery. By the time you were done placing all the little pieces, even with their help, your hands were shaking.

You were too fidgety and nervous to sit while you brought up the correct programs on the desktop. You wanted to keep as many variables out of the situation as you could. You had the luxuries of a well stocked and funded surgery this time but could still feel the fear of failure. There was a life in your hands and you didn’t want to lose it.

Connor stood behind you as you worked, typing code rapidly and digging through the windows and files that popped to life onscreen. You didn’t mind his hovering. Lucille wasn’t far either, but her gaze was zeroed in on Penelope, monitoring her vitals for you. Her inner workings were more suited for surgery in humans but were just as useful now - the amalgamation of mental and physical health software installed within her was made for this. Thank the gods for Pence Lombardy and his unorthodox but effective coding methods. Besides, she would be the one to provide therapy to the android post-surgery so long as you were successful.

And you planned to be successful.

By hour six of sorting through the viruses and destructive programming, the synthetic skin on Penelope’s arms and legs started to form again. It was taking so much longer than the last time you did this. The coding was more sophisticated, harder to clean from her system. In a way it felt more organic and that both intrigued and horrified you. The actual outward attack was crude and had damaged some of her components, but the coding was not, it was malicious and clever.

You held your breath after hitting the return key for the last time, removing the last block keeping her trapped inside her own mind, and waited. The circle of a CyberLife LED taunted you as it swung in its gyroscope like motions in the middle of your screen. It was a direct link to Penelope so it was a crimson that instilled an icy fear in you. A few blinks of yellow gave you hope the longer you stared.

“Breathe.”

The soft command startled you enough that you did as you were asked. With wild eyes itchy from staying open too long, you turned to look at Connor. His LED was still yellow.

“_______. Breathe for me. You’ve done what you can.” His voice was a soft marriage of concern and soothing. It made your already accelerated heart rate feel fluttery and you felt a bit lightheaded.

“What if it wasn’t enough?” you ask. Your voice was rough from disuse and lack of proper hydration.

Before Connor got a chance to try and console you, the machine beside you chimes. You blinked rapidly to clear your vision of the tears from stress and exhaustion. In a rush of air you sobbed in relief. The LED on screen and on the side of Penelope’s head was a perfect cyan. All your combined efforts worked. No factory reset. There were signs of self awareness in the diagnostics, small and tentative, but they were there.

In a rush you spun to start delicately removing the wires that were no longer necessary so the android could start the healing process. Like removing a piece of glass from a wound, you’d removed the problem and the body could do the rest of the work. Lucille and Connor remembered where each piece should be returned and hustled to help you. There was a lucid calm washing over you, the calm before the storm - or in this case after it.

The moment the last piece of equipment was removed from her, you made a soft noise of relief, and immediately collapsed into the nearest chair. Your ears were ringing. Your stomach rolled like motion sickness after keeping your eyes open for so long. Each piece of discomfort was worth it.

You’d saved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Hello and welcome to Planet Plot, please watch your step as you exit the plane/train/spaceship and enter a world where attempted "robotic lobotomies" are stopped by you and other robot docs like you.
> 
> Let me know what you think, what your favorite part was! Comments really help keep this fic going. I have several chapters written ahead at the moment and want to keep it that way as long as I can, but I need you to know I now have two jobs to make ends meet so my free time has dwindled even further. Letting me know what you enjoy keeps my motivation for posting this fic alive!
> 
> \-----
> 
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	7. Grand Trunk Pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barked order from Lucille stopped you dead in your tracks. Her look of horror and tone of voice shocked you into temporary silence and immobility. Even working on Penelope she’d kept her cool but your statement somehow crossed a line with her.
> 
> “But I’m hungry?” you explained in a small voice, uncertainty making your voice rise in a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

“Connor, stop fussing. I promise I’m _ fine _ .”

“You have not eaten, sat down, or drank water for at least seven hours. Your exhaustion forced you to fall to the floor of the surgery and require my assistance leaving the room. You are not ‘fine’.”

You glared up at the android from your seated position in your own analysis chair. Connor met your look with a single minutely raised eyebrow. When you just rolled your eyes in response he knew he’d won. Fighting the android would only end badly for you anyway. He got daily practice with Hank, no doubt, forcing the lieutenant to take better care of himself than he had before the android entered his life. The aforementioned man entered the room when you were halfway done with the bottle of water Connor handed you.

“Great job, kid,” Hank said the moment he walked in. “I hear you were able to stop the wipe.”

Settling your head back against the chair to catch your breath you nodded. “Thanks, Hank. It put up a hell of a fight for a few hours there. I’ve heard of new mutating algorithms for this shit but hoped I’d never see it.”

With your eyes closed you missed the look between Hank and Connor. Both of them were anxious to resume their homicide investigation but were hesitant to push you for information. You read their tense silence easily enough, though. You knew them well. 

“Agent Lucille is working with Penelope now. Almost immediately after I unplugged from her she started to leave standby mode.” You paused and bit your lip with nerves, eyes still closed. “Did Fowler explain Lucille’s, uh, function?”

Connor responded eagerly. “Yes. Her role at the department fulfills a vacancy created by the recently established laws regarding android rights. The agent is our Victim Advocate, and a behavioral analyst.”

“Makes sense,” Hank says. “Convenient she started this month then, isn’t it? Just in time to help with this case and the increase in wipes? And for a unique model you sure know a lot about her functions.”

Your eyes shot open as you sat up to focus your glare on Hank. In the back of your head you immediately felt silly. The look on his face made it obvious he was needling you and he got the response he wanted. He had meant nothing incriminating towards Lucille. He’d just wanted to confirm his suspicions you knew her, and you fell for it. Hank wasn’t one of the best detectives in the DPD for nothing.

“How did you know, Hank?” you demanded.

“I didn’t  _ know _ ‘til you just confirmed it,” he said, wagging his finger at you good-naturedly. When your scowl didn’t diminish, he walked over to put a hand on your shoulder. You’d noticed the longer he lived with Connor, the more easily affectionate Hank was with the people he was close to. It felt nice to be included in that small circle. “You’d make a terrible lawyer.”

“I take that as a compliment,” you said, a rueful smirk threatening to lift your lips.

Some of your poor mood faded at Hank’s teasing. You had no idea in the last month or so since Lucille’s arrival if you’d hidden your less than buoyant mood very well. Apparently not. You were staying up way too late looking up news articles on the court proceedings for several CyberLife employees. Depending on how that went down could mean big things legally for you in the future. He’d obviously noticed some things. That and you realized you were doing nothing to hide to your coworkers how skittish you were around Lucille.

Speaking of, Lucille walked from the safe room to the main area of your office. She removed the protective gloves from her hands. You all looked at her expectantly.

“She’s stable,” Lucille started. “The malicious software is completely out of her system, per our diagnostic scans.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and drained the rest of your water bottle. When you made a move to stand up again, Lucille spoke up.

“Penelope needs some time, at least for tonight. The wipe attempt was aggressive.” Lucille regarded the way you immediately listened to her diagnosis, stalling in your path to the clean suit locker. “There is a high probability there will be lasting effects of the attack. I’d like your help in the morning working with her, though, _______.”

“Of course,” you said readily.

“Did she happen to mention if she would be comfortable giving a statement?” Hank asked. He stood with his arms crossed next to Connor, and the android looked between his partner and the other android in a sign that he was interested in the answer as well.

Lucille’s lips pursed in a small frown and the few loose hairs from her bun swa. “I haven’t gotten that far with her yet, I’m afraid. Patience here is key. Very few androids have managed to break a wipe so my research files are woefully slim on the subject. Assisting her through this will be a matter of trial and error. And, I don’t think she would consent to an interface so soon after the attack.”

The lieutenant looked put out but didn’t fight or push further. “If she can’t, we’ll think of something.”

In the silence that followed, each person in the room lived in their thoughts, unsure of what to say next. Neither android fidgeted, but you did, still working out tension from your legs after standing with locked knees for far too long. Your stomach picked that moment to make a loud gurgling sound. You winced as all three people looked at you with varying forms of surprise.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I’m going to go see what they have in vending, be right back.”

“Absolutely not!”

The barked order from Lucille stopped you dead in your tracks. Her look of horror and tone of voice shocked you into temporary silence and immobility. Even working on Penelope she’d kept her cool but your statement somehow crossed a line with her.

“But I’m hungry?” you explained in a small voice, uncertainty making your voice rise in a question.

“You haven’t eaten anything since this morning and just performed major surgery for almost eight hours, you need a proper caloric intake, not the empty nonsense upstairs. Scans indicate the only thing even relatively healthy left upstairs are peanuts and you are allergic. You can’t just grab a bag of chips and call it good!”

Called out! A blush rose to your cheeks as it became more apparent with each passing word that Lucille was falling into the same role she’d held while living with you those first few months. You tried not to smirk at her too much and tried  _ really _ hard not to roll your eyes. Hank laughed, and when you looked over to him you saw how genuinely tickled he was witnessing someone else giving you a hard time. You lost the battle to not roll your eyes at the sight of him. It just made him laugh a little louder.

“Okay  _ mom _ ,” you threw back at her, “what do you suggest?”

Lucille raised an eyebrow at your tone, another trait picked up from your parents -  _ your dad _ \- and the LED on the side of her head spun yellow for a moment. “There are twelve restaurants not far from here that deliver.”

“________ do you need to stay much longer?” Hank said when you made a face. He looked thoroughly too entertained by what was happening between you and Lucille.

You glanced at your watch, and up at him, hopeful you were picking up what he was laying down. “Can you call ahead and see if they have seats this time of night?”

Connor knew exactly what you were up to, even if Lucille didn’t, and chimed in. You and Hank were creatures of habit. “I’ll make a reservation at Grand Trunk for four. The wait time on their site is currently listed as seventy five minutes. Is that adequate time to finish up here, _________?”

Eager, you nodded, moving to start your end of day paperwork immediately. There was plenty of data saved in the servers to describe what you did but there was still more detail you needed to take down. Rayne, the student intern, would benefit from these especially.

You could hear Lucille in the background  _ tsk _ and start talking to the men as you worked. “Grand Trunk Pub is hardly a healthy choice, detective.” 

A glance at her confirmed what you already assumed: her arms were crossed and her hip jutted to the side as she regarded the lieutenant and detective with scrutiny. Hank just mimicked her posturing, crossing his own arms and leaning back a bit. The pleased smile never left his lips as they argued good-naturedly. You bit your lip as you caught their conversation and body language. They were so similar. You wondered if they realized it.

Discreetly you reached for your phone. Dismissing the notifications from the day, deciding to deal with them before bed, you pulled up Connor’s number to send him a text. There were still too many things on your mind to really enjoy the way Hank and Lucille bantered. You wanted to make sure Connor really was okay after witnessing a wipe firsthand.

[You, 19:34]:  _ They’re both having too much fun. Are you free later to talk by the way? _

[Connor, 19:34]:  _ Of course. About what? _

[You, 19:35]:  _ It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just need your insight on a few things, case related. I need an android’s perspective.  _

The same moment the word  _ yes _ floated across your screen you looked up to meet Connor’s eye. His smile was a mirror of Hank’s, and when he caught you looking at him, he winked. 

Damn those butterflies. Now wasn’t the time, you needed to get paperwork done and then stuff your face with greasy, terrible,  _ delicious _ food. Penelope was on the way to recovery and a small celebration was in order for that.

By the time you were sure Penelope was settled for a few hours until Lucille could come back and monitor her, your group was almost late for your reservation at the restaurant. You forgot how busy the place could get on weeknights. Grand Trunk Pub was a staple for locals and never seemed to  _ not _ have a wait. The food made it worth it. 

A chill settled into the air now that the sun was set. This part of town was close enough to the river that you could almost always feel the breeze off the water. Your sweater was barely adequate for the trek from the precinct to the pub so you were glad for the warm wash of air inside. Connor looked at you in alarm as you raised your hands to rub your arms the last few steps toward the restaurant.

“If you were cold you should have told me, you could wear my jacket,” the android said.

You opened your mouth to argue but Hank was standing with the door held open for everyone to walk in and made a comment before you could. “You’d let her mess up that pretty jacket of yours, Connor?”

Hank’s comment flew past Connor’s head so fast you swore you heard it whistle between his ears.

“I trust her not to cause undue damage to my clothing, Hank,” he said, completely missing Hank’s point. 

However, you had caught the insinuation like a pro ball player and were glaring around Connor’s shoulder at the chuckling lieutenant. Hank knew how particular his partner was about the state of his clothing. The android always,  _ always _ looked his best. It made you wonder if an android could be vain. That was a question for Lucille later, though.

Connor looked between you with confusion but followed Lucille inside without comment, a small pout making his face  _ too damned adorable _ for his own good.

Or, rather, for  _ your _ own good.

~*~*~*~

All the booths were tiny inside the restaurant and almost all of them were full. There weren’t many open spots at the bar, either. It wasn’t until Hank started talking about the daily specials with you that you realized that it was Thursday night and understood why the press of bodies was so intense this late at night.

You’d taken the inside seat on the bench next to Lucille and across from Connor. The redhead had protested, citing that you would need to move and get up more than she would and should sit on the outside, but you stubbornly slid in. When you sat with your back pressed into the corner created by the booth and the wall she huffed. You just held your hands up as if to say  _ did you expect any different? _

“You really shouldn’t sit like that,” she said. “You’ll-”

“Hurt my back? Hasn’t done much damage so far,” you retorted, cutting off the old argument.

In direct contrast, Connor sat up properly across from you, next to Hank. The men were in normal chairs so they weren’t pressed as cosily as you and Lucille. It felt nice to be close to her again, honestly, you realized you had felt lonely at home without her since she moved out, and she’d only lived with you a few months.

You already knew what you wanted but you still looked over the menu just in case something else caught your fancy. You were absolutely starving after all, so everything and nothing looked good, so sticking to your favorites was likely the safest bet. Hank still needed a minute when the waitress came around so you just asked for a glass of water and told him to take his time deciding. That gave you a chance to take a look around but your eyes inevitably fell to Connor.

Inquisitively, he scanned the room, an almost absent look on his face. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since the surgery. Normally he would have a million questions you’d be happy to answer. As tired as you were - emotionally, physically, mentally - your thoughts wouldn’t let you rest and relax because of him. When the waitress came back and took yours and Hank’s orders, despite Lucille’s admonishments that what you had picked was hardly healthy, you took the moment of confusion with menus and passing of silverware to get Connor’s attention.

He startled at the touch of your foot pressing gently into the side of his shoe. The instant tightness in his shoulders and the way his eyes flicked in your direction made your breath catch in your throat. Those sorts of on a dime reactions in him made your stomach do funny flip flops. 

“You okay?” you asked quietly, barely moving your lips, hoping that he could just pick your voice out of the din around you.

Connor’s face softened at the question, his LED changing back to blue from the concerned yellow it was before. He reached one of his hands over the table to rest against yours and smiled softly at you.

“Yes, I’m just processing the case. I’m sorry if I seem absent-minded.”

“Any ideas to share with the table, Connor?” Hank said. He was leaned back against his chair, and though you couldn’t see it you bet two of the legs were lifted off the floor. Lucille eyed him, obviously as displeased at the way he chose to sit as she was with yours.

“Yes, I do. I just wasn’t sure if it were appropriate to share while you two were enjoying your dinner?”

“We’ll make an exception, at least until the food arrives,” Hank said.

You caught the lieutenant’s eye on where Connor’s hand rested on yours and you pretended to grab for a sugar packet for your coffee. It didn’t work as well as you thought since everyone at the table knew you took yours black.

Connor reached into his pocket to take out his calibration coin, performing some of his least flashy but still effective tricks as he spoke. “Very well. During my observation of _________’s work on the android Penelope I was able to see firsthand the type of malicious software causing our investigation to be stalled. This attack was more physical. There was evidence of a struggle in the damage on her fingers and in the resistance to the software. I understand that there are some androids who have resisted full decommissioning resets even, retaining their sense of self beyond that method, though it is rare...”

You listened as closely as you could but even with coffee you were starting to fall asleep. The warm room, the gentle background noise of a dozen conversations, being surrounded by friends you trusted...a recipe for a nap if you ever knew one. 

That and listening to Connor talk was just so  _ lovely _ . You wanted to kiss whoever designed his voice software. 

Or maybe just kiss him. That would be nice.

Copying Connor’s decision, Lucille absently played with her calibration cube while listening to Connor and Hank review the case, bringing together the evidence and data they both collected throughout the day. She brought up a few valid points regarding android behavior, especially where it mimicked humans, and the men listened to her with rapt attention. These were concepts you were familiar with, too, but you let her explain them. It was her job after all. You were content to just listen and watch. Her repetitive hand movements transfixed you. Each spin of her fingers or twist of the wrist dimpled her synthetic skin or moved the false ‘bones’ beneath her hands. You allowed yourself a swell of pride at how well she was constructed.

Half-asleep, you bolted awake when the food arrived and almost spilled your coffee on yourself. Thankfully, Connor put his hand over the rim before your clenched fist could topple it.

“Whoops,” you said behind a yawn. “Thanks, Connor.”

“I feel it would be prudent for you to return home after dinner,” Lucille said. You blinked at her but didn’t reply, mouth full of food. “I’ll be fine by myself with Penelope tonight.” 

Connor chimed in, leaning forward on one arm to speak directly to Lucille. “There is also the high probability she would prefer android-only company for a few hours. She has suffered a traumatic experience.”

“Correct,” Lucille said, smiling proudly at Connor. The praise made his smile a bit wider. 

Hank snorted into his coffee and reached over to ruffle Connor’s hair since his lean put it in perfect reach. The android made a sound of distress, pulling back, hands lifted to his hair to try to put it back to rights, pouting all the while. Apologetic was not a word that could be used to describe Hank in that moment.

“Teacher’s pet. Kid, I’ll drive you home after this, don’t need you to pass out on the walk.”

An idea popped into your head immediately, perking you up. You swallowed hard against the mouthful of potatoes and hollandaise sauce. “Lucille needs to get back to the precinct right away. Connor could walk me home and you can take her back? That’s on your way back home anyway.”

Hank looked at you blankly. “Then how’s Connor getting home?”

You didn’t have an answer for that, but Connor saved you from looking like a fish out of water.

“I have an appointment with Markus at New Jericho tonight. Sorry, I forgot to remind you, but it is in your PDA calendar.”

You had no idea if that was a lie or not but you knew for a fact that if Hank were to actually look at his PDA, which he rarely did, he would see an entry made weeks ago for an appointment for Connor. Retroactively, of course, though he wouldn’t be able to tell without digging. Hank obviously guessed something was up but dropped it. You remembered how tired he was that morning, even taking your coffee, and you doubted he had taken a nap during the surgery. If you knew the suggestion wouldn’t be met with resistance, you would suggest Lucille drive. 

No one but Hank could drive that car, though. He would throw a fit. Connor, maybe, but you’d have to see that to believe it.

“Well don’t be out too late, alright? And check in once in a while. All these android attacks...makes me nervous.”

Your heart nearly melted at the way Connor looked at Hank. The lieutenant was facing his food, hiding behind his mop of hair, so he missed the way his android partner regarded him with fondness. 

“I promise that if the threat level is too high I will remain at ________’s apartment and return to work with her in the morning. She is far closer to New Jericho, after all.”

New Jericho was in a newly built high rise a few blocks down from yours. Part office park and part apartment complex, it functioned as a hub for all android activity and allowed them to create their own neighborhood. 

“Can I just go with you?” you asked. “Safety in numbers?”

No one at the table could make a good argument against that you couldn’t validate. Even though Connor’s idea to meet Markus was a rouse to cover your blunder, it was actually a great idea. After saving another android from a wipe you felt it would be a good time to talk to him. In case they weren’t aware they would need to know to call you immediately if it happened again. You knew the androids were still hesitant to call the police for their own problems, even with sympathetic officers all over the force, some prejudice remained.

“Markus needs to know,” you argued. “He can disseminate the information more effectively than any of us humans could.”

“I still don’t like it, but you have a point. You promise to check in, too,” Hank said, pointing at you with his fork.

“Of course. I’ll be with Connor, after all,” you said. “Lucille, you’ll let me know if anything happens with Penelope where you need me, right?”

Lucille nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve kept watch on her vitals since leaving the precinct and everything is proceeding as normally as can be expected by any abnormalities will be delivered to you immediately.”

“Thanks, friend,” you said. “I know she’s in good hands with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> [Lucille's calibration cube.](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FQJRVMM/ref=sspa_dk_detail_3?psc=1&pd_rd_i=B07FQJRVMM&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_p=f52e26da-1287-4616-824b-efc564ff75a4&pf_rd_r=EJTTBQEN6YC4NC7KAAFK&pd_rd_wg=za6cq&pf_rd_s=desktop-dp-sims&pf_rd_t=40701&pd_rd_w=mpoGY&pf_rd_i=desktop-dp-sims&pd_rd_r=bdeb3a1d-cfc0-11e8-b413-df24a88cfed6)  
>    
> [Grand Trunk Pub](http://www.grandtrunk.pub/) is 100% a thing and I've gone and it's wonderful.
> 
> Hello! A little bit of everything in this chapter. This used to be two but I wanted to keep this rolling right along, so into one chapter it goes. 
> 
> I will be doing my utmost to stay on top of this. I work two jobs now, but through the ineffable power of my beta and friend Viv this fic stays alive and written ahead. Let me know what parts you like, what questions you have, all of that in the meantime! The comments really fuel me to keep writing.
> 
> \---------
> 
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	8. Vincent El Gato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor’s smirk was dangerous, even if it was half covered by Vinny’s tail as it curled around his head. “I’m not currently in any form of dismemberment. I can be as sassy as I’d like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Connor insisted on giving you his CyberLife designed police jacket for the walk home. In the hour or so you spent inside the warm restaurant the temperature had dropped several degrees so you didn’t feel like fighting him on this one. That and the pleasant clean scent that followed his clothing was intoxicating. You knew most of that scent was what he used to wash his and Hank’s clothes since his body didn’t exude a scent, as well as a few other environmental things, like some thirium evaporation. Yes, you knew that logically but, it still somehow smelled like  _ him. _ The sleeves were too long so you were able to fist your hands inside them to keep your fingers warm. 

The moment Hank’s taillights disappeared around a corner, Connor looked down at you and said, “Hank was right - you really aren’t a good liar.”

You held a hand to your chest in mock offense. “How dare you, I happen to be a  _ fantastic _ liar.”

He was getting better with sarcasm. It only took him a second or so to catch on and roll his eyes. The crosswalk turned green as he asked, “Hank knows you wanted to talk to me alone. I assume this has to do with that theory were you hoping to test?”

“Exactly, though I think we really should go to New Jericho and talk to Markus if he’s available tonight. Let’s stop at my place first so I can grab some things and feed Vinny.”

“I’ll confirm with him,” Connor said.

Connor had a far off stare for a moment while he made the silent phone call. You waited patiently, guiding him across another crosswalk since he was still slightly distracted. The material of his long sleeved button up shirt under your hand was slick like silk but much more substantial. It certainly hid how toned his arms were underneath. You avoided looking at Connor so he wouldn’t see your blush, and you let go immediately after crossing the street, staring up at the leaves on the trees instead, admiring the way they were changing color.

“Markus will be available in an hour or two,” Connor said. The look on his face was slightly off so you poked him to get his attention. As he looked over you saw he was blushing. “I may have, uh, interrupted him in a private moment when I called.”

There was a pause before the other shoe dropped and your surprised face cracked into laughter. “Oh, I don’t mean to laugh but  _ your face _ , Connor! Was he with Simon, then?”

Connor’s cheeks got pinker. “He was. How did you know?”

You gave him a look that said  _ are you kidding me? _ before you said, “Good for them.” A genuine smile splitting your face. After such a shitty emotional month you were glad for the moments of peace you had at the restaurant and this moment with Connor. It felt normal and comfortable. “Those two have been dancing around each other for way too long.”

“I agree. They’ll make a good couple, they show the outward indications for two people who care about each other very much.”

You looked up at Connor again, curious about his phrasing. He didn’t notice, too busy scanning around him on your walk. You tried to make a mental note to ask him about what he meant by “indications” later. It felt oddly stilted compared to how fluidly his other speech patterns were. The two of you were already at your apartment complex’s front doors. Connor reached past you to grab the handle and hold it open for you. He’d visited the building before so when you passed a neighbor on their way out the man waved amiably to both of you but otherwise didn’t stop to talk.

“I’ll just be a minute,” you explained as you unlocked your door. In the back of your mind you thanked your past self for cleaning up a little that week so the place wasn’t so “lived-in”. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

A long time ago you’d gotten out of the habit of offering your guests something to eat or drink since most of the ones you cared to stick around were androids. Or Hank. And he’d learned quickly you didn’t keep beer or liquor in the apartment until he started to come around. Once he knew he was the only one drinking it he just made a beeline for it as soon as he came through the door. It warmed your heart a bit that he felt that comfortable around you.

Connor still needed the reminder, though.

It reminded you Lucille hadn’t been back around yet, and you made a promise to yourself to invite her over sometime soon, if she wanted to of course. 

“Is Vinny around?” Connor asked. 

You sucked your lips between your teeth to avoid laughing at Connor again. His voice was so hopeful and carefully controlled so he didn’t sound as excited as he likely was.

“Yeah, the monster’s probably under my desk. C’mon.”

Before, during college, you’d had roommates in this apartment. The two of them were a couple and therefore had dibs on the larger of the two bedrooms. You didn’t mind so much then. Now though you kept your bed in the smaller room because you used the larger one for your workspace. With an impressive collection of computers and android repair items, the office was easily your favorite place in your apartment, and so it was your cat’s as well. He had his own palace in the corner so he could have things to keep him company as you worked, and to distract him from chewing on cords or messing with delicate instruments. 

As soon as your footsteps went from the hardwood near the front door and living room to the carpet in the hall, you heard a soft  _ mrrrw _ from the office.

“Vinny-boy, whatcha doin?” you called out.

Connor was right behind you when you reached the door, Vinny already lumbering towards your legs. A large black and white cat, you’d given him a mobster style name because when he sat back like a human it looked like he had a tux on, like in the  _ Godfather. _

“May I pick him up?” Connor asked, hands twitching slightly at his sides.

“Sure, he shouldn’t be sore from surgery anymore,” you said. The last time Connor had visited your apartment your rescue kitty had needed a worrisome but benign lump removed from his leg and the android was devastated over it. “You can play with him, too, his toy box is in the same place. I’ll just be over here. I want to change out of my work clothes to something warmer.”

Face nuzzled into Vinny’s belly, Connor peeked up at you and smiled, nodded, and went back to loving on your cat. Vinny was in  _ heaven _ . He was running his face against Connor like his life depended on it, trying to leave his scent on the scentless android. The damned butterflies were in full force when you closed your bedroom door for privacy while you changed. 

In that moment you were more than a little jealous of your cat.

You set Connor’s jacket on your bed while you changed, moving quickly to change from the polyester pants you wore to work into one of your favorite pairs of jeans and a baggy alumni sweater. Better suited for the chilly fall weather, especially since you had a long-sleeved t-shirt on under the sweater, you opened your bedroom door to give Connor his jacket back.

Sprawled on the floor of your office Connor’s eyes were closed. Vinny looked blissful as he lay flat against Connor’s chest, his head near where you knew the android’s thirium pump was closest to the surface. Like a heartbeat, the sound would no doubt make the cat fall asleep on your friend in no time, if he hadn't already.

Stepping so you could look down at Connor you asked, “How’s it going down there, buddy?”

“You said to make myself comfortable,” Connor replied matter-of-factly. 

His eyes stayed closed but that smirk was just as powerful on you upside down as it was any other time. One of his hands absently stroked across Vinny’s back. The purr was loud enough you were sure the downstairs neighbors would be able to hear it.

“You spoil him. He’s going to get hair all over your clothes.”

“I don’t mind.”

To avoid the butterflies in your stomach from bursting out your throat at the sight of them, you left the room to head to the kitchen. As much to stall as anything, you needed a bit of coffee to make it to New Jericho and back, both for alertness and warmth. Connor’s jacket went over the back of a dining chair since you were still holding it. You stood and stared at the drip from the coffee maker, wishing you still had your enormous mug, remembering that it was probably on Hank’s desk at the precinct. Thinking of that brought a smile to your lips.

“So you know how I wanted Hank to take Lucille back to the DPD?” you called down the hallway. You didn’t need to raise your voice for him to hear you, not really, but you did out of habit.

Connor appeared around the corner from the hallway to your kitchen a few seconds later. Vinny stretched over one of his shoulders like a living, breathing scarf, trying to wind his way around the back of his head to drape. Since his shirt was so slippery, Connor had to lift both hands to steady the cat, though he didn’t try to stop his attempts to get comfortable.

“I deduced you had some ulterior motive, given your lackluster attempt at hiding it at Grand Trunk.”

“Correct,” you said, pouring your coffee into a spare travel mug. “Is there anything about the case you can tell me that might help with the android attacks? This is the first wipe I’ve seen a record of in a while but without knowing why, I can’t fully research this.”

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a moment as he presumably rifled through the last month of memory files to access what you might mean. “I can’t tell you much yet, not without Hank’s and Fowler’s permission. Hank wouldn’t mind, but Fowler has been strict on the developments”

You sighed. “It kind of makes sense, I guess, but I think as the Head Android Tech I should...you know what, it isn’t your fault, I’ll need to just appeal to Fowler tomorrow for access. It just worries me that it looks like the attacks are getting more violent.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute or two, Vinny’s purring filling the quiet. 

“How do you like Lucille so far?” you asked, trying to move the topic to something kinder, safer.

“She is very smart, and from what I’ve seen she’s proficient at her missions.” Connor caught the way you gave him a blank look, since he was not answering what you asked. “I don’t know enough about her to know if I like her or not. Though, she reminds me of Hank, in a way. Hank has expressed to me a great respect for her, though he was adamant that if she were to try to-” Connor paused, tentatively lifting his fingers to make air quotes “-psychoanalyze him then  _ he’d give her programming a run for its money _ .”

You spit a little of your coffee back into the mug at the way Connor imitated Hank. He could have chosen to directly pull the lieutenant’s voice file from his system and repeat the phrase in his voice, a perfect mimic, but in a very human way he emulated the likely emotion and inflection of the conversation instead. It gave greater effect.

“That is not how he said it, Connor, and you know it!” you said, pointing an accusing finger at him and not trying to hide the smirk on your face at all.

Connor absently scratched behind Vinny’s ears. “Hank could use more friends,” Connor said out of the blue. “It could work. Their interactions have been amicable for the most part, and Hank seems very amused with how you allow Lucille to tease you.”

“Don’t get any ideas about that, sir,” you said, wagging your finger at him. 

Connor’s smirk was dangerous, even if it was half covered by Vinny’s tail as it curled around his head. “I’m not currently in any form of dismemberment. I can be as sassy as I’d like.”

“That can be arranged,” you fired back. Connor’s look of mock hurt made you giggle. “You’re not wrong though. There are plenty of things she could learn from Hank, of course. She’s a prototype like you, the most advanced of her kind.”

“There are no other EX models currently in operation so she is the only of her kind,” Connor said bluntly.

“Well,” you said, dragging out the word. This was risky territory and you knew it. The last thing you wanted was for Connor to put two and two together. “She is the 300 model so there would have been two others, right? I mean, Markus is RK200 and you’re RK800, so who is to say that there aren’t more of her out there? Not to mention the other versions.”

LED spinning yellow again, Connor gently moved Vinny to the floor since the cat had started to fidget like he was planning on jumping down from his shoulder. That sort of drop was sketchy since his surgery though the cat seemed determined to give you a heart attack. That and the fact he was heavier than he ought to be.

“Thanks,” you muttered, bending down to pet the rascal on his way to his food dish, his second favorite place in the apartment. 

“Of course. A fall could impair his healing process. I hadn’t considered those factors in my initial assumption. My scans of CyberLife databases produce limited results regarding the line since it is so new and she is the only one.”

Looking up from the floor where you continued to pet your cat, you gave him a practiced look, patient and waiting for him to figure it out on his own. He was the most advanced detective model, after all, and his technique was honed by observing Hank who was arguably the best on the force. That was another point on the side of “nurture” in the Nature versus Nurture thesis you were composing. You didn’t have to wait long. His gaze flickered across your face, reading your careful emotion, and then scanned the living room, then down the hall towards the computer lab. The LED flipped from yellow to blue in a flash, like a literal lightbulb going off in his head.

“ _ You _ built her. Lucille’s model is the only one registered on CyberLife’s systems but the rest are inaccessible!”

“Correct again, Connor,” you said, standing with a smile. You walked back to your bedroom to grab his jacket and returned to him looking at your office with new eyes. This was nowhere near a confession of what you’d done when working with Kamski, and you let Connor make his own assumptions, but it felt good to say  _ something _ about your past to him. “Though, by the rest, there are only two others. EX100 and EX200 didn’t work out very well, not for what they were originally programmed for at least. I’m sure Kamski still has them in operation somewhere. You know, I used to work for CyberLife though almost all of my research was removed from CyberLife’s databases. I knew about deviancy long before Markus, before the uprising, all of it. Before you. It was predictably controversial, the idea that an android gaining sentience should have the option to  _ live _ .”

“Kamski?”

The single word held so much weight falling from the android’s synthetic lips. You knew he and his creator were on uneasy terms since the incident with the Chloe model. When you’d heard that story you’d almost marched up to the estate to verbally flay the smug billionaire alive, and maybe more than just verbally. Sick sadistic fuck.

A long pause filled the space between you. Connor took his jacket from your hands, allowing his to linger on yours for a moment. “I sense you’re not ready to discuss this yet, though I would like to offer my services as a listening ear whenever you are.”

The look on his face was gentle and pure and open when you looked up. Your eyes weren’t itchy just from tiredness anymore. The dam of emotions inside you threatened to spill over at his offer but he was right, you weren’t ready yet. The threat of what could happen to you by law still hung heavy on your shoulders and closed your throat before any sort of confession could rise up.

Instead you gave him a smile as best you could and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing his fingers for emphasis.

“Never change, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> How goes it, y'all? Feeling good, feeling fresh, feeling fly? I hope so. You got a whole chapter with just you and THAT BOI how does that make you feel???? And Vinny is an absolute unit and don't you forget it.
> 
> I'm still spending almost all my free time working the second job of course, but your comments and interactions on this fic are watering my flowers, clearing my skin, and overall bringing me joy and keep me writing. Thank you. 
> 
> \-------------
> 
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	9. New Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good evening, everyone. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” he said. When Markus reached you he lifted his other hand to rest on your shoulder to squeeze it fondly. “Welcome back, friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) I legit listen to this all the time half the songs are in my Spotify Top 100 this year || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Like an island of light, New Jericho was visible from a block away. Androids didn’t require the same sorts of circadian cycles humans did so it was common to see the neighborhood full of life at all times of the day and in any weather. As one of the biggest distinctions between the androids and humans, you really enjoyed the sense of difference, something that was specifically theirs even as they did their best to find a place in society. It felt like each week there were a dozen more androids and their found families moving into this district. Getting to watch them interact and form a society, their own sort of culture, was nothing short of beautiful. The knowledge that in some small way you helped this process happen never ceased to amaze and humble you. You would do anything to protect it.

A group of androids lingered in a nearby alleyway between two homes, stringing lights from building to building. It filled the space with twinkling orange, purple, and white. At this distance you couldn’t tell they were shaped but Connor pointed out they were pumpkins, bats, and ghosts, respectively.

“I fucking love Halloween,” you said, practically bouncing as you walked down the street with Connor.

“The holiday intrigues me,” Connor said. “I rather enjoyed Christmas last year with Hank, though he doesn’t celebrate them the same way as it’s shown in movies or in popular culture.”

You shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Movies are pretty misleading on the best of days, since the ones I think you’re talking about are fictional or just really idealistic.”

“That is likely the case. However, I enjoyed my time with Hank more than I think I would have liked any of those fictional situations. Especially the story of Kevin McAllister.”

Temporarily caught up by how damned adorable Connor could be, and how much you admired his familial relationship with Hank, you almost ran into a blow up decoration. He had to pull you out of its path. His hand lingered on your arm a little longer than necessary to steady you, but you didn’t notice since you were embarrassed as it was. To cover that, you asked “Have you thought about what you want to wear for a Halloween costume? Wait, hold up, this is your first Halloween, right?”

“I haven’t considered wearing a costume and to answer your question, technically it is. I was activated on August 14th, 2038 and immediately tested with a hostage situation. I returned to CyberLife Tower after the situation was...neutralized.” Connor paused for an introspective moment. “I don’t regret my actions that day, but I wonder if it would have gone differently if deviancy was already accepted. I suspect not. He murdered more than one person that night.”

You remembered the incident with the PL600 named Daniel. It was all over the news when it happened and you always dug into stories about androids, seeking every piece of data you could, a hobby turned obsession turned career. You had no idea Connor was the one who’d been sent to assist.

“I’m positive you made the best decision you could at the time. You can’t change the past,” you said.

“You can’t change the past either.”

His poignant comment, turning your own words on you, startled you enough to chuckle wrly. “Alright, sassy pants, enough philosophy from you. All this tells me is that you don’t know about the best holiday ever and that we missed your birthday and...oh, shit, Connor what’s today’s date?”

“October 8th, 2039, 22:45.”

“Okay good I haven’t missed Lucille’s then. I activated her months before that but she waited until the day she picked her name. Hers is October 15th, a week before mine.”

“That explains part of her serial number, then.”

You shrugged. “I had some leniency with it. She liked the idea of having my birthdate as her number for some reason. She’s the only active model so there aren’t any others in her line to conflict with.”

For several yards the two of you enjoyed the view of androids decorating their homes or interacting with each other in the community. Most of New Jericho was a high rise, at least thirty stories tall, surrounded by older-style homes. At the end of the block the largest building, an old school repurposed to a community center, waited.

“I don’t count my activation date as my birthday,” Connor said quietly when you reached the yard in front of the community center. “Hank asked me before, and I felt it more appropriate to use the date I gained deviancy.”

“November 9th,” you breathed out, eyes wide.

“You remember,” Connor said, obviously pleased.

You didn’t get a chance to speak more about that, or need to explain exactly _why_ you remembered, since you ran into North as she exited the building.

“What brings you here, vagrants?” she said when she saw you.

In spite of her purposefully hostile tone, you ignored the comment and reached out an arm to greet her. Posturing gone, she met your offer of a handshake without hesitation. She did the same with Connor. The nickname was earned through the way you usually dressed to visit Jericho before, trying to blend in, and essentially appearing like a vagrant with your thrift store chic outfits. Connor earned the name by association to you.

“Nice to see you, too, North,” you said. “Is Markus inside?”

“He should be back soon. Last I checked he was finishing a meeting with one of the androids visiting from Oregon. They’re staying over with a family in the neighborhood. You guys can wait for him inside, Simon and Josh are still there.”

“Thanks!” you said, starting to jog up the steps to the front door, Connor just behind you.

“Catch you later!” North called back.

She started to jog towards the part of the neighborhood where you knew she lived with several deviant Tracis. You and North were on friendly terms but you weren’t anything close to friends. The android’s semi-violent tendencies set your teeth on edge too often to make it past acquaintances.

Since androids had a much higher tolerance for extreme temperatures compared to humans, the inside of the center wasn’t much warmer than the outside. There were still a few weeks - hopefully - before the first snow in Detroit. You knew they would turn on the furnace soon so the water pipes wouldn’t burst but you wish they were on now. At least you wore a raincoat over your sweater and jeans.

You followed Connor down the hallway of the refurbished school and towards a large flight of stairs nearby. You’d visited several times since this neighborhood was converted but mostly to provide your services as a tech and doctor, so you’d spent a majority of your time in the hospital wing of the building. Connor stepped confidently up the stairs, leading you towards the offices on the second floor of the century-old brick building. Out of habit you checked your phone on the walk up the stairs and didn’t put it back into your pocket until you’d reached the top floor.

“_________?”

The sound of your name in a familiar voice made your head snap to attention. “Pence?”

“Man, am I glad to see you!” Pence said, standing from the bench he’d been sitting on when you walked up. He enveloped you in a hug that you returned easily before you could get a good look at him. “How long has it been, six months? You look great!”

Holding him at arm’s length you look him up and down. “Same to you! Wow, what are you doing back in Detroit? I thought I heard you’d moved to Washington? How’s Sabrina, how’s Noah?”

As you catch up with your old friend and partner, Connor stands by quietly with a neutral smile on his face. Remembering your manners you cut yourself off mid-story about Vinny and step closer to the android.

“Pence, this is Connor, I work with him at the DPD. Connor, meet Pence Lombardy.”

Pence held out his hand and smiled broadly, his teeth bright white in the fluorescent light against his dark skin. “I’m sure you’ve scanned all you need to know about me already, Connor. Pleasure to meet you.”

Connor had the sense to look slightly sheepish. “I don’t mean any intrusion. It’s a matter of habit, working for the DPD has groomed me to be always on alert.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what model are you?” Pence asked.

“Not at all. I’m an RK800 model, a prototype that was proposed to be a wider line but ultimately has remained quite exclusive.”

“Hmm, handsome _and_ polite,” Pence said, smile still lighting up his face. “You made a great catch, my friend.”

Ice ran down your arms to your feet and the butterflies all but exploded in your stomach. You had no idea what your face looked like, or Connor’s, and you were too afraid to look.

“Oh, my god, we _work_ together, Pence,” you squeaked out, voice not nearly as strong as you wanted it to be.

“Oh, damn, me and my big mouth making assumptions,” Pence said, his smile turning more to a wince of apology. “You know what, forget I said anything.”

“Connor is Markus around yet?” you asked without looking at the android.

“He’ll be arriving to his office in exactly twenty two seconds,” he replied. Was it just you or did he sound like he was very amused at the moment?

Pence cleared his throat and tucked his hands into his pant’s pockets. “I’m actually here to meet with Markus, too. I did move to DC, I needed to be closer to the decisions they’re making down there about androids. That and Sabrina’s parents live there, so it made sense as a place to go after…”

Pence trailed off but you didn’t need him to explain. Both of you felt the need to go into hiding after Lucille was completed and the deviant uprising started in force. Some of your last communications were on the burner phones discussing whether or not you two were safe. After watching several technicians and coders get cuffed and put through grueling hearings and trials...both of you were reluctant to truly show your hands in helping deviancy rise in androids.

Markus and Simon arriving up the stairs pulled you from those anxiety-fueled thoughts. Dressed impeccably as always, the leader of New Jericho offered your group the barest of smiles, reaching out his hand to shake everyone else’s.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” he said. When Markus reached you he lifted his other hand to rest on your shoulder to squeeze it fondly. “Welcome back, friend.”

“Hey there, Markus,” you said.

You wished he didn’t look so serious all the time, but he looked more relaxed than you’d seen in a very long time, perhaps ever. You had a feeling Simon had something to do with that.

“Have you seen Rayne lately?” you asked. Your coworker was nearly done with her Masters program but frequently visited New Jericho as a sort of on call doctor, the same as you.

“She’s here tonight, or she was the last I checked,” Markus replied.

Simon spoke up. “Rayne went home for the evening, she has a thesis to finish.”

“Glad to hear she’s haunting this place,” you said. “I’m glad you guys have more hands to help you.”

Markus supplied another rare half-smile and gestured behind you. “Come in. We should still have some coffee here from the last time you visited.”

The promise of a refill and a hot drink spurred you into motion. You made sure to take time to give Simon a friendly hug before going into the room, giving him a knowing wink while jerking your head towards Markus. Simon looked confused for a moment but when he realized what you meant his cheeks pinked and he bashfully ducked his head.

Even if you had more coffee at this time of night you would still be able to sleep later. At this point you needed it just to have something to keep you awake. You realized as you poured a cup and the men settled into various chairs or standing positions in Markus’s office that you’d been awake for nearly eighteen hours at this point _and_ almost eight of that was spent in surgery. Oof. You offered some coffee to Pence.

“Still taking yours black?” he teased as he poured cream and sugar into his.

“Like my soul. Yep.”

Connor gave you a funny look from his position leaning against a cabinet. As you sipped you waved to him to promise to explain later.

“Impromptu as it was, I’m glad you were able to join us for this meeting tonight Connor and _______. Have you both met our guest?” Markus spoke formally as he sat behind his desk.

“I went to school and worked with him,” you said fondly. Part of your internal amusement was remembering just how _impromptu_ it was. Poor Connor. “And I introduced them before you got here.”

“Good, then we can move on. Mr. Lombardy has brought to my attention that there are promising developments in the capital for android rights that haven’t made it to the newsrooms yet.”

“Pence, please, you can call me Pence,” your friend said. “And yes. Even a year later some lawmakers are hesitant to throw their hats in the ring completely on your side, especially those from religiously conservative regions of the country. They’re citing things that are ridiculous, frankly, but more are moving in the right direction.”

“At least it’s not an election year,” you said bitterly.

“Next year is a presidential election year,” Pence pointed out. “Warren could have another term, too. There’s never a good time for this stuff.”

“I wonder if they knew that more androids are getting wiped if that would change anything,” Connor said.

Markus sighed. The sound made your mouth twist in sympathy. He looked as tired as you felt. “The wipes are happening faster than we can track. Androids are afraid to interface with or even touch anyone in standby anymore since some attacks are mimicking sleep.”

“We had one today,” Connor said. His voice reminded you of Hank’s when the two of them were discussing a case. All business. “_______ was able to cease the attack but it took eight hours and two androids assisting her to correct it. Whoever is orchestrating these thumb drive attacks is getting better.”

“Are there any leads on who it is?” Markus asked.

“I can’t release much information, and shouldn’t even have revealed that much. It’s an ongoing case,” Connor said sympathetically, “though I suspect there will be more information tomorrow on possible ways to avoid the attacks. Another android on the force explained she would need to clear the message with our public relations department first.”

When Connor mentioned another android on the force, Pence not so subtly snapped his face towards you, both eyebrows raised. You just nodded quietly to confirm the android was exactly who he suspected it was. He sat back a little harder in his chair.

“We can’t just keep letting this happen, we need more information now,” Markus said. His expression was marred by frustration but it didn’t feel directed at anyone in your group. He looked up from his desk at you. “Are there any procedures or fail safes, anything, something that could help us here on the ground? There are a few technicians that visit us every week as on call doctors but they don’t have the answers we need. We’re seeing an exponential increase of reports across the country of wipes, mostly centered in the Midwestern region, a silent genocide.”

Heart in your throat, you shook your head. “The few I’ve seen or studied mutate so quickly, I...the only things I can suggest are never traveling alone and do not touch another android you don’t know. The one in the AX400 today showed signs of a timed release attack.”

“Do you still have the code log?” Pence asked.

“I do at the precinct, it’s evidence so we’d have to vet you and bring you in as an expert, probably,” you said. Words felt sluggish and your limbs were heavy with more than just tiredness. For all the little moments of levity since it happened, the wiped android Penelope was still on your mind, and you wished you knew how to stop this.

“I’ll start the process now,” Connor said. His eyes went slightly glassy as he accessed his internal connections to the DPD.

The rest of the meeting discussed political intricacies that you weren’t well-versed in. You tried to pay attention but your mind kept wandering to who could be creating the code so sophisticated it could hollow out the personality of the android while keeping the other functions intact. The simple way to explain it was a factory reset but you and Pence and all the other androids knew it was deeper than that. The attacks were meticulous.

Against your will, your chin started to hit your chest as you nodded off. Curled up in your chair in a way that would make Lucille glare at you, you weren’t in any danger of falling or hurting yourself, but Connor did gently take your half-empty mug away from you when you truly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> YO I AM NOT DEAD
> 
> Did you guys have a great holiday season? Phew it's been ~~checks watch~~ almost exactly two months since I updated this bad boy. I am still several chapters ahead but with the two jobs and holidays damn I was not able to focus on posting anything.
> 
> So, here you go, have a great rest of your 2018, I hope to be back to finish this (lol we are nowhere even near the middle yet don't worry) in 2019! I quit that second job ya know
> 
> \-------------------
> 
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	10. Unwelcome Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No one knows who it is. There are plenty of copycats though, that have been apprehended.”
> 
> Kamski stared at you and you tried not to squirm. He was a hawk and you were the mouse in his sights. “No ideas whatsoever?”
> 
> “You know I can’t talk about that,” you said. You wished your voice held more conviction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

_ Good afternoon, _______. I require your presence this evening promptly after your shift. Chloe has ensured you’re free, she’ll be around to collect you from the bus stop two blocks from the DPD, at the closest CyberLife store to the precinct. Bring Connor. _

You glared down at your phone’s screen as the words of the voicemail populated in the preview. You’d already listened to it three times. There was no mistaking the owner of the voice on the other end even if the phone number belonged somewhere out of state. He was still using a random number generator to place calls, it seemed. Kamski’s paranoia was just as bad as it was when he last contacted you seven months ago. Yours was no better.

“I’m not your fucking pet to order around,” you grumbled to yourself. 

You cut down hard into the caramel apple you’d stolen from a basket on Reed’s desk. He’d won it as some sort of autumn-themed office raffle and you doubted he would miss it. The man lived on coffee, kale, and protein bars; he was ridiculous about his fitness. One caramel apple would fly under his radar. 

Slipping a slice of sweet autumn goodness in your mouth, you munched as you typed furiously on your keyboard. The last thing you needed was for Kamski to demand your presence. You were torn between doing what he said and defying him, though as the day slipped away you knew your answer. Your curiosity and paranoia told you there was only one option.

Besides, he might have some insight on the wipes. You wouldn’t give up the opportunity to pick his brain on that.

Connor was out with Hank for most of the morning so you couldn’t reach him or talk to him in person until after the afternoon was half over. You tried your luck on your way to the break room and checked if they were back from their beat. You saw Hank’s jacket hanging by his desk but no sign of either of them.

“Your boyfriends are meeting with the Captain,” Reed said. 

The detective was pouring the last of the coffee from the newly fixed machine into his mug. He pointedly put the empty carafe back without making any motion to do the decent thing and refill it. The inaction made you roll your eyes. “Joke’s on you, jerk, I get a  _ fresh pot _ .”

Reed scoffed at you over the rim of his mug. “Gotta wait though. That’s what you get for stealing.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you huffed as you pushed the brew button.

“You have some caramel on your cheek, liar.”

When you swiped at your cheek and felt nothing, you turned to glare at him. Detectives in this precinct sure liked to take advantage of how gullible you were. “Whatever, not like you were going to eat it anyway.”

“It’s the principal of the thing. Don’t come crying to me when some of your precious lunch is missing.”

“Don’t you dare! I have allergies!” you called to his retreating back.

He just flipped you off before leaving the room. You regretted nothing. As you stared at the machine waiting for it to fill, Reed got one last jab in.

“You didn’t deny that they’re your boyfriends.”

“Oh my god, go away Reed!” you yelled at him, picking up an unopened bag of coffee grounds and threatening to throw it at him. You could hear his chuckling for far too long after he left the room.

On your way back to your basement lab you saw someone else waiting at the elevator you hadn’t run into for a few days. She was wearing her hair in a single braid today.

“How are you, Lucille?” you asked as you approached the android.

She smiled when she saw you but it didn’t last. You guessed the digital file she held in her hand had the information you requested on wipes across the country - not exactly something to smile about.

“As well as can be expected. How are you ________?”

“About the same,” you answered honestly.

Lucille nodded and used her arm to hold the elevator open for you. The angle allowed you to see her LED was yellow. “I would like to brief you on something regarding the attacks on deviated androids. And I think Penelope might be ready to talk soon, though I’d prefer you to perform a physical on her first before Lieutenant Anderson or Detective Connor interrogate her. I know an outside diagnostic would make her feel better. Though, every internally run test has produced normal results.”

“Of course,” you said. You returned the favor with the elevator door as it reached the basement, and walked in step with Lucille down the hall.

“She’s staying in one of the safe houses not far from here,” explained Lucille. 

You glanced at the clock. You had two and a half hours before Chloe would be driving up to the bus stop as requested by Kamski. 

Lucille caught on to your spike in distress with ease. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing, I just...I want to make sure I spend as much time with her as possible. How far is ‘not far from here’?”

“Twenty minutes due to current construction conditions if we were to walk. We could take a car, though we would need to check out an unmarked one from the auto fleet. I’m sure Fowler wouldn’t mind, though that wouldn’t save us any time. In order to alleviate the chance of detection we would need to take an alternate route.”

As Lucille talked you stared at the clock. You could make it. Maybe you could text the number Kamski called from to ask Chloe to pick you up closer to the safe house, though that was against procedure since it would add another person to the short list that knew where Penelope was. She was a witness in a human murder case and therefore possibly a high target.

“It’s not about the distance, is it?” Lucille’s voice was gentle, understanding. It sounded a hell of a lot like your mom’s. Your android progeny was a great study.

“Shut the door, please,” you said in an undertone before answering her question.

Lucille did as you asked slowly. “Kamski?”

Your head in your hands you grunted the affirmative. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

“Language. And you get a very specific sort of agitated when he’s involved. I’m inclined to inquire as a coworker if this interferes with this mission, though I am also inclined as your friend to ask if anything untoward happened between you two.”

“What?” you exclaimed, head snapping up. “Untoward? You think we, that  _ he _ ....oh, my god no nothing like that!”

The artificial lines around Lucille’s eyes relaxed as that assumption was brushed away from her files. “I don’t mean to assume anything, but if he had hurt you in any way I wouldn’t hesitate to test a few of the combat files saved in my programming.”

“Pfft, Pence gave you those?” you asked, an unladylike snort escaping, some of the tension easing out of you from her tone. You had no doubt she would act on her threat.

“I have several tricks up my sleeves you don’t know about,” Lucille said teasingly. She moved to sit against your desk, careful not to wrinkle any papers. “Though I’d hate to need to use them.”

“I don’t know, I’d love to see them in action.”

She gave you an exasperated look that didn’t carry much heat. Arms folded, she pressed on. “Seriously. Professionally or personally, why is Kamski calling on you now? Your project team was disbanded once I was activated.”

“I have no fucking-”

“Language.”

“-clue, sorry,  _ mom _ no  _ freaking _ clue. Here, you can listen to his voicemail.”

At the tip of her index finger some of the synthetic skin melted away. Lucille stared at your unlocked phone for a few seconds as she transferred the audio file from it to herself. 

“His request to have Connor join you is impossible.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t even had a chance to ask him yet.” You tried to focus on your ticket requests from around the precinct as well as what Lucille was saying. Could you trust the newbie, to handle them? Probably. Rayne was getting the hang of everything really quickly. You were just stalling so you didn’t have to deal with what Lucille was asking.

“Darling, the date. Connor mentioned it’s important to Lieutenant Anderson, and when I looked at his personnel file…”

A glance at your smartwatch showed  _ 10/11/39, 15:45 _ . “I’m not sure I get it but you know what, not bringing Connor will be fine. A little dig at Kamski. I don’t get to have many of those.”

You didn’t notice the way Lucille stared at you for a moment before shaking her head slightly and moving on. There was something you were missing but her training and programming advised her it was not her place to explain.

“I’ll come get you from wherever Kamski decides to drop you off,” Lucille said. “I can check out a car for overnight work. I can advise Penelope of the change of plans.”

“No, we can go now, I’ll just reply to this ticket and-”

“_______. No, this meeting with Kamski, as agitating as he can be, may be important. It’s possible he has heard of your work on our witness and has insights to where the wipes are coming from or how to stop them. There is currently no indication of the author to the malicious code used in the wipes, at least not the ones that you’ve encountered or the precinct has record of.” Lucille rested her hand on your shoulder to help you loosen them and relax. “Don’t take everything on yourself, darling. There’s an entire team on this case and this is your way to help.”

You noticed you were gritting your teeth and stopped yourself before you started to grind them. “As much as I hate this, you’re right. I don’t know what this is but it’s too much of a coincidence to  _ not _ be about the wipes. I’ll call you as soon as Chloe lets me.”

The hand on your shoulder rubbed soothing circles.

*~*~*

As promised, a sleek grey car pulled up next to the bus stop a half hour after your shift ended. The blonde android greeted you as you slipped into the back seat, shaking off your umbrella before you shut the door.

You didn’t always work on Saturdays but with the case threatening to run cold, all involved parties had hands on deck. Rayne was more than ready to step up and help more, too, so you would need to make a point the next time you were in the office together to make sure she was briefed on the case. 

Even though you’d spent the last hour of your shift talking to Captain Fowler and Lucille you still hadn’t seen Connor or Hank return. The older man’s jacket was gone from the last time you checked so you figured it was just bad timing. The Captain had just glanced at you with a look of  _ why is that your business _ when you asked him where the guys were. 

You could take a hint.

Most of what you’d discussed with the Captain was the employment application he’d received from one Pence Lombardy. You’d stuck strictly to your time at the university together, since that was the only official information Fowler would be able to collect with a background check. You felt confident that the DPD would have another android expert on staff soon enough. Three would be much better able to handle the number of androids employed and the rise of android-centric crimes. You, Rayne, and Pence could be a great team. You wished the second part weren’t a driving factor.

Chloe wasn’t much of a conversationalist on the way up to the estate, though you didn’t do anything to change that. The model he used for chauffeuring didn’t care for small talk and you respected that.

By the time you pulled up to his mansion the miserable drizzle had stopped. Your hair was already destroyed from the humidity and you did your best not to be too conspicuous as you tried to make it more presentable. Kamski could find fault in anything and you didn’t want to give him an easy dig.

“Welcome back, ______,” the Chloe who opened the door said. “He’s expecting you in the study.”

“Thanks,” you said with a polite smile. It was all you could manage. 

Kamski was bent over a desk that looked deceptively modern and unassuming. You figured like everything else in this house that it cost more than you really were comfortable with knowing. He glanced up and held a single finger to ask you to wait, but offered you the seat by the wall of windows facing the city. Captain Fowler’s insistence at a dress code paid off now since you felt less out of place in this deceptively plainly decorated study with black slacks and your favorite button up.

“Have you located the artist behind the wipes yet?” Kamski asked.

You startled in your plush seat, lost in thought watching the lights of Detroit. “No one knows who it is. There are plenty of copycats though, that have been apprehended.”

Kamski stared at you and you tried not to squirm. He was a hawk and you were the mouse in his sights. “No ideas whatsoever?”

“You know I can’t talk about that,” you said. You wished your voice held more conviction.

“Hmm.”

Kamski let you sit and stew while he kept swiping his hand around the tablet in front of him. His eyebrows knit closer together the longer he worked.

“Lucille is exceptional, isn’t she?”

You sighed, counting to five to try to calm down. Of all your visits so far, this was the worst on your nerves by far. “You  _ know _ she is, Elijah. You’re the only one from CyberLife that has full access to her.”

A little smile twisted his mouth but his eyes didn’t leave his tablet. He knew how much you hated using his first name but for some reason, he insisted when you met in person. “So I am.”

“Why did you ask me here, anyway?” you said, losing some patience.

“No Connor today?” he asked without missing a beat. “I was sure you’d bring him with you.”

“I’m not his keeper or anything.”

“You’ve spent more time with the RK800 than anyone else since starting work at the DPD,” Kamski said. His pen’s strokes against the touch screen were sharp and quick. “I assumed you would be able to convince him to join us today. I so enjoyed his last visit.”

Your skin crawled more the longer he talked. In his black housecoat and hair pulled back in a sharp bun, you couldn’t be sure but he looked thinner than the last time you saw him. The weather was just as miserable then, too, but it was March. The week before you started at the DPD, at his suggestion.

“Elijah, if you have information about the case, anything that could help, you really should call Fowler. I’m not a detective I’m just the technician. Or Lieutenant Anderson, I’m sure he-”

Again, he interrupted you with what sounded like a non-sequitur. “You’re so good at falling in line. Conforming. Only six months or so with the department and your loyalty is unwavering with the law and your  _ team _ . Just like it was to me and to Pence not even a year ago. I wonder if your friends there would help you when you’re getting cuffed and dragged away by the feds.”

Your throat was too dry to swallow past. “I don’t - I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Human memory is so fleeting. You disappoint me, _________. I see this meeting won’t be productive for either of us. Chloe will see you out.”

And, without once looking at you, Elijah Kamski dismissed you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Hello hey hi how are you doing thank you for reading yes QUICK UPDATE as I realize I still have several chapters written ahead in this beast and I missed my month-target for an update.
> 
> Kamski sure is a thorn, huh? What did you do that was so bad Kamski is using such grave threats against you???? Also I wonder what is special about the date that Reader is missing...hmmmmm.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------  
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	11. Let it Rayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your umbrella was only half-useful to block the downpour when you stepped back out of your apartment. Puddles sent arcs of water away from the car as it drove you and Lucille towards Wayne State’s main campus. The moment the car slowed to a stop, you saw a figure running and dodging puddles to get to the back door.
> 
> Rayne shut the door as fast as she could, had to reopen it to get her backpack strap unstuck, then flopped into the backseat. Shoving her hood off her head, she released a shock of faded blue hair full of static and humidity. It got worse as she turned the heater vents up in the back to start drying off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

You couldn’t even make the words to ask Chloe when it was okay for you to make a phone call. When Lucille finally drove up to the bus stop on the far north side of Detroit to pick you up, a deliberately out of the way place, the bottoms of your pants were soaked from the rain as the puddles got worse.

She pulled into a parking spot nearby and got out of the car the moment it was in park. You knew you looked a mess. You had cried as soon as Chloe drove away and couldn’t get the image of being arrested for your work out of your head thanks to Kamski. Without a word, Lucille took one look at you and grabbed you, pulling you close for a hug, then guided you into the passenger seat of the unmarked car. On the entire drive back to your apartment she held your hand as the car automatically drove you several miles south through the city.

“Are you okay?”

You sighed. The car ride felt alarmingly similar to the one you’d taken with Pence to your parent’s place almost exactly a year ago. Same android, same chill in the air, and same uncomfortable questions.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as honestly as you could. “Kamski is just a fucking prick.”

Lucille’s lips pinched at the cursing but she didn’t admonish you. Her programs told her now was not the time. Correcting your language was a very low priority compared to verifying your mental state was intact enough to proceed with the mission. And, she just plain cared about your well being as it was.

“I still want to see Penelope, what she knows could really help Hank and Connor on their case.”

“I’m taking you home to change your clothes first,” Lucille said. “I don’t want you to get sick because they are wet.”

You changed as fast as you could into something more street appropriate, and more comfortable, before joining Lucille again. By now the street lamps were blooming to life in the city. From the weather most people were staying off the streets, so Detroit appeared eerily calm.

Lucille was on the phone when you came from your bedroom to the kitchen. You could only tell she was speaking to someone since she allowed you to hear her side of the conversation out of courtesy, as all androids were able to communicate internally on phone calls.

“Thank you. Yes, we’ll pick you up. See you in ten.”

“Who was that?” you asked, pulling open the fridge to stare blankly at the contents until you realized you weren’t hungry. Vinny was though. Old man always was.

“Rayne. I thought it would be a good idea to take her with us, and Penelope has already confirmed her consent to all three of us visiting.”

You carefully scraped the edges of the can to get all the gravy out for Vinny. That was his favorite part. Part of you was glad Rayne would be tagging along - her electric personality and keen sense of robotics would be very useful in the diagnosis - though you felt a twinge of frustration. You could do this by yourself. Why did Lucille call her without asking you first? Were you really acting that bad?

As if to prove her point that yes, you were way too out of it to deal with this alone right now, Lucille put her hand on your shoulder to get you out of your head. You had kept scraping the plastic fork along the tin can over and over as Vinny pawed anxiously at your pant leg.

“Sorry big guy,” you said, picking up his dish and setting it on the floor. You ran your hand over his back and tail once before standing up again. “Are we picking her up or is she meeting us?”

“She’s leaving school which is on our way, so we’ll stop to get her,” Lucille said.

Taking a steadying breath you forced yourself to shake off some of your melancholy. You’d have time to deal with the emotional onslaught post-Kamski visit later. “Neat. Alright. Just need my shoes and I’m good to go.”

Your umbrella was only half-useful to block the downpour when you stepped back out of your apartment. Puddles sent arcs of water away from the car as it drove you and Lucille towards Wayne State’s main campus. The moment the car slowed to a stop, you saw a figure running and dodging puddles to get to the back door.

Rayne shut the door as fast as she could, had to reopen it to get her backpack strap unstuck, then flopped into the backseat. Shoving her hood off her head, she released a shock of faded blue hair full of static and humidity. It got worse as she turned the heater vents up in the back to start drying off.

With her face near a vent, short hair starting to curl at the ends, Rayne said, “Ugh, thanks Luce, I was not looking forward to flagging a taxi home in this shit.”

You dodged as much of the water from Rayne’s entrance as you could but still wound up with a good portion of the outside on your shoulder. “You certainly let the  _ Rayne _ in with you.”

“Ha ha ha, haven’t heard  _ that _ one before,” Rayne said sourly. 

“How was school?” Lucille asked from the front seat. She’d smirked at your pun but based on Rayne’s response, she decided not to push the teasing further.

Rayne had her face in her backpack to make sure the contents hadn’t gotten wet. “I will be so glad when it’s over. Two more weeks and I’m free, guys.”

“What’s your thesis about? You’re finishing your Masters, correct?” Lucille asked.

You perked up and listened to the conversation. You’d only worked with Rayne for a month officially, since she was interning part time at the department, and hadn’t had much of a chance to ask these sorts of questions. She acted very familiar with Lucille but you supposed since they started at the precinct at the same time, it made sense for two new employees to gravitate towards each other.

“...so really it’s a study in the ways biocomponents can be improved by adding more similarities to human and animal biometrics. Android hardware is already heavily based on the way humans work and move, but the current designs still focus too much on our established conceptions of how computers are supposed to work. I have had to read so many damn anatomy books for this but it’s so worth it.”

A row of mid twentieth century homes greeted you as the car turned down a side street. Most of the homes were salvaged from blight decades ago and felt partially disconnected from the otherwise top of the line technology you were used to in Detroit. It felt cosy and quiet, like stepping into a fairytale world. Everyone in the car ogled the view, a too infrequent one nowadays. The car slipped between two of the homes and pulled around behind to a garage barely large enough to fit two of the compact police-issue unmarked vehicles. You were relieved to avoid the rain again.

All of you stepped out carefully as the car pulled to a halt and powered itself down. If the outside street were quaint and reminiscent of decades past, the inside of the garage felt further in the future. You’d only heard about the DPD’s safehouses before, never been to or seen one.

“Woah, this is some  _ legit _ shit,” Rayne said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Before Lucille could admonish her for the curse, she winced in the android’s direction and apologized. “You gotta admit though, this is some impressive tech. Almost as good as we have in the labs.”

Running your hand along the top of a display, you had to agree. What appeared to be black paneling when you drove in was coming to life. As Lucille walked over and placed both hands on a raised screen near a door, you saw the way her communication with the computers logged all the logistical parts of your trip, including who she was with. Yours and Rayne’s employee badge ID pictures came up as it logged your presence. 

“How did you manage to look good in your picture?” you asked Rayne, pointing at her image. “I look like I lost a fight with my hairdryer.”

Rayne shrugged. Her grin matched the one on the ID photo on screen, though her hair was a much more vibrant blue in the month old shot. Now it was closer to teal with blonde roots peeking out from under her loose beanie. “Plenty of practice on what to do with internships and school IDs.”

Lucille finished the virtual paperwork for your visit and opened the door by the data terminal. “Penelope is on the second level.”

Single file the three of you headed down two flights of stairs, footsteps muffled by commercial-grade carpet. The way the stairwell smelled reminded you of when your school built a new gymnasium - because of course they needed more money thrown at the sports - and what the building smelled like for a year after completion. This safe house, or at least this space beneath the garage, had to be new.

Lucille knocked on a wooden door on the second floor down. There was one other door like it down here but that was open to reveal basic cleaning supplies. The tiny hallway resembled what you’d see in hotels but with just the two doors instead of dozens. Rayne adjusted her heavy backpack from one shoulder to the other and you tried not to fidget while you waited. Your feet hurt from working a full day and not getting a chance to rest except for sitting in the car. Lucille knocked once again when a minute had passed. You didn’t have to wait long after that before Penelope came to the door.

In stark contrast to the way you first saw her, wearing naught but a sort of hospital gown and most of her synthetic skin missing, Penelope was dressed in a fluffy hooded sweater and soft pants. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was the standard brown you saw on most AX400s though she’d chosen to shoot one solid line of copper through it on one side. 

“Hello,” she said, opening the door fully when she recognized you and Lucille. “Come in, sorry I kept you waiting. I was reading and didn’t hear the first knock.”

“That’s alright,” Lucille said soothingly. “Do you remember ________?”

Penelope turned when she reached the modest living room. Like outside the door, the inside resembled a hotel room as well though it felt much homier than the ones you’d stayed in before. She clasped her hands in front of her and nodded. Penelope was soft spoken and wasn’t acting eager to host the three of you, which made you worry for the upcoming diagnostics. 

“You’re the technician who removed the wipe.” Her voice was relatively flat and her face looked purposefully expressionless.

“I had some help,” you said, gesturing to Lucille and Rayne. “I’m really glad to see you up and around.”

Without warning, Penelope’s fidgets morphed into a rush towards you. Her arms wrapped around you tightly in an embrace. Unable to lift your arms to really hug her in return, you patted her back as well as you could and let her choose when to separate.

Backing away, Penelope hugged herself and gave you a watery smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“No, no, you’re good. Not everyone is okay with unannounced hugs-” Penelope’s eyes got wide “-but that was totally fine! And please, don’t suppress the emotions you’re working through, your systems are probably still sorting themselves out. You don’t have to apologize to me,” you said, feeling some of the tension deflate from the room the more you spoke.

Penelope sighed with relief. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. What can I do to help the investigation? Are you here to question me about Mr. Lander’s murder?”

With her demeanor flipped from nerves and tension to something eager to move forward, it felt appropriate to get to work. Rayne stepped up to explain. “No, that’s the detective’s jobs. We’re here to check you out and give them the go ahead, make sure you’re feeling up to taking questions.”

“Absolutely,” Penelope agreed readily. “Just tell me what I have to do so we can catch the people who tried to kill me.”

A lump of acid burned in your gut at how candidly the android was speaking about her near-death experience. Lucille stayed close, keeping up a conversation with Penelope to test her mental and emotional faculties as you and Rayne went through the checklist of physical and software items to verify. None of you knew her before the attempted wipe so there was no telling how much of her personality or memory were preserved. Penelope explained that she had never had human owners, as she was one of the first to be freed by Markus during the revolution from a CyberLife store. Then she’d gone to live away from Detroit for several months as things settled down, avoiding the worst of the attempts at placing androids in camps or shooting them in the street. You remembered those days. The memories made you angry in a way that made you want to  _ do _ something about it.

“I don’t know how much of me might have been lost,” she said after your tests were done. “There are parts that are fuzzier than others, especially the older memories, but I still feel like I’m me. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Penelope got a clean bill from all three of you, and since the hour was drawing close to nine at this point, Lucille made the executive decision that her two human charges should be on their way to their respective beds. You shook your head at her fondly at how easily she slipped into the motherly role. Your smile got broader when you noticed Rayne acting the same way towards Lucille as you.

On the way to Rayne’s dormitory near Wayne State the car was quiet. Lucille stayed at the ready in case the automatic car required her influence, but you and Rayne enjoyed the short ride. You tapped out a text message to Connor so he would know that there would be an appointment to meet with Penelope for him and Hank as early as they wanted it. He didn’t reply right away, but you saw he’d acknowledged it. Not replying was out of character for him though not very rare. He could reply seamlessly to you while having a different conversation with Hank though depending on the situation, he focused on one thing at a time. You just figured that since it was about the case he might at least send back a short message. You tried not to think too much about it before slipping your phone back into your jacket.

Behind you, Rayne was typing away at her phone’s screen and smiling. Catching her look in the rearview, Lucille spoke up.

“Significant other?”

Rayne gripped her phone and paused typing when the question hit her. “Uh, no I’m um asking my roommate what’s for dinner.”

“Sure is a wide smile to have for a conversation about food,” Lucille teased.

Deadpan, Rayne replied, “They’re a great cook.”

She waved and said goodnight as the car pulled up towards her dormitory. The rain decided to lighten up significantly so she didn’t even open her umbrella on the way to the front doors. Lucille didn’t start the car towards your building until she saw Rayne make it safely inside.

“Hey, where are you staying?” you asked. You realized you never really asked where she was living now that she returned to Detroit and felt like a bad friend for it.

“There are a few buildings between the precinct and New Jericho that are android friendly,” Lucille said. 

“That’s cool.” You settled further into your seat, sitting in a way that made Lucille roll her eyes. “Do you have to return the car tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll check it back in at the precinct and go home from there.”

“I can go with you. You don’t have to drop me off and go alone.”

“But you’re exhausted, after everything today are you sure you don’t want to just go home?”

Honestly, you seriously considered how nice it would be to go home and relax on the couch with Vinny purring up a storm on your stomach, but you couldn’t relax yet. Connor’s lack of response and your own anxiety from the day kept your mind buzzing even if your body was trying to slow down.

“I’m positive. I want to make sure the records of that diagnosis session are uploaded to DPD’s files as soon as possible anyway.” Lucille sighed, obviously unimpressed with your promise to keep working. You nudged her with your elbow. “And I get to spend more time with you, yeah?”

This time she released a surprised hum, the slight frown turning to a reluctant smile. “Fifteen minutes, tops. Then you’re going home.”

“Deal,” you promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Yoooo! So legit one of my favorite original characters to write beside Reader has finally been introduced here (she was mentioned way back in chapter five and a couple times since then). Rayne! And yes her name is pronounced like "rain" hence alllll the puns incoming - so many puns you might get Sans Undertale flashbacks.
> 
> I want to sincerely thank you guys who have been following this fic from the start - the comments I receive on this have made me want to write even in the midst of feeling generally blah about writing in general. You are treasures to the community and I appreciate EACH ONE OF YOU. Asking me questions and pointing out things you see that either made you laugh or squirm or anything - that's what makes this fun.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------  
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


	12. Pieces and Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bit your thumbnail as you considered sending Connor or Hank a text. When you stubbed your toe on a file cabinet you realized you were pacing and decided the best thing to do would be to go upstairs and try to talk to them in person. You could think up an excuse to why you thought they should question Kamski. They needed probable cause, and enough evidence to get a warrant if he resisted, but you were sure you could think of something. Something, at least, that didn’t reveal how well you knew him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||

Rayne absently spun in the office chair next to yours. “How do you think it’s going?”

“Fine. Hank and Connor are the best detectives on the force,” you answered. You input another prompt into your computer and waited for the program to populate results. “Lucille is with them, too, it should be fine.”

“Ugh, I was hungry until I started doing this,” Rayne muttered, halting her spinning.

She stood to leave the room, asked if you wanted anything, which you didn’t, and headed back to her small office next to yours. There was little more than a plexiglass wall separating the two of you, but it was enough to block out the sounds of work between the rooms. You waited until she was out of sight before sighing and lowering your head into your hands. With your hands pushing your hair back you stared at your keyboard as if the letters and numbers would rearrange themselves to answer all the questions buzzing in your mind.

Kamski was silent after your meeting that weekend. And it was deafening.

There was too much in the air after his thinly veiled threats that he had something on you. You had your suspicions it had to do with working for him technically under the table and developing software in androids that wasn’t exactly legal at the time. Was there something of yours in one of the drawn out Cyberlife cases? Wouldn’t you have heard from some authority about that by now, gotten a court summons? Part of you knew it was silly to be so worried when you didn’t even know for sure what he “had” on you, though that didn’t stop you from feeling trapped in his metaphorical headlights. It could be any number of possibilities and the longer you thought about it the worse you made it. You hadn’t expected him to reach out in the first place, but this felt different, like there was the beginning of a wall getting built between you two. At one time you felt as though you could speak frankly with him, especially surrounding your work. There was no telling if Kamski were angrier you hadn’t brought Connor with you or because you refused to reveal classified information. 

Then there was Connor. You’d last seen him the night you went to New Jericho together and he had only responded to your text about Penelope when you were asleep Saturday night. Although, you’d spent time together outside of work, the two of you had never really had a “good morning text” kind of relationship and it felt off to try to establish that now. All the butterflies you felt when you were around him kept trying to persuade you to send him a message and just talk to him, since talking to him was quickly becoming one of the reasons you loved your job.

“Hey, do you have a set of...you do! Can I borrow that toolset?”

Rayne returning to your office space made you sit bolt upright, knocking papers off your desk. As you gathered those up you said, “Sure, yeah, you don’t need to ask. All of it belongs to the department.”

“Sweet, thanks,” Rayne said before going back.

You were too jumpy to just handle the tickets coming in, you needed to do something more productive. If Rayne needed tools she likely had a more hands on project. “Do you need any help?”

“No but you can come in here if you want.”

You got out of your chair immediately. Rayne had a few pieces of evidence on her lab table that belonged to the body of a wiped and destroyed android. Seeing the parts didn’t bother you so much, but you figured that would be the case for a human doctor seeing human parts as well. Thinking about human parts did make your stomach churn, though. Bad train of thought to follow. 

You really needed to occupy your head. Remembering your role as mentor to Rayne, you switched into a more businesslike tone.

“Talk to me, what’s going on here?” you asked, leaning on the edge of the table to regard the parts.

Rayne brushed her freshly dyed green hair out of her face and pointed at a forearm without its hand but still included the elbow joint. All of the synthetic skin was gone since there was no core processing unit to command the pieces to blend in. “This belonged to a JB300 model. His name was Isaac. After voluntary deviation during the revolution he decided to remain on duty as a security officer at the television station, same one Markus infiltrated actually. But he was transferred a few months later to guard the affiliated radio station instead.”

“And that’s where he was wiped?” you asked.

“Sort of, it was on his way home. Since the station is on the other side of town he typically carpooled with some of his co-workers back to New Jericho but for some reason that night decided to walk alone instead.”

You pulled on gloves so you wouldn’t tamper with any potential remaining evidence. You knew all of this but part of her training was deciphering what she saw in the components like an android coroner. It wouldn’t hurt to lead her a little. She didn’t have access to all the classified documents you did, not yet.

“I remember the news story. He was found near the riverfront, right?”

“The DPD recovered everything of his body but a few parts,” Rayne said. 

Before you could prompt her to list off the missing pieces, she rattled off the shortened version of serial numbers for each piece found to be missing from the reconstruction of the JB300, Isaac. You hadn’t been employed at the precinct when this happened, or you would have been the one who did the reconstruction. As it was, the previous tech was found to be competent but highly prejudiced against deviated androids. She was dismissed and you were brought in.

Most notable to you was one of his optic components had been picked apart and you were proud of Rayne for focusing on that, too. She would make a great full time hire after her degree if she wanted to continue at the DPD.

Your traitor brain whispered that she would do a good job replacing you if you happened to eventually get arrested for your deviancy involvement the way Kamski was insinuating. Stomach still churning you suppressed that and kept being the best mentor you could be.

“The dismemberment was deliberate, to be sure,” Rayne said, lifting up the forearm from the elbow end, using her gloved finger to point out the neat slices in the wires and plastic. “And the same sorts of cuts were located within his left optical component. The plastic around it wasn’t completely destroyed so Isaac was either incapacitated or already gone by the time they started picking him apart. The observations we have from other wipes include the ability to force the android into standby. His hands were destroyed from his attempts to fend off his attacker.”

You let her chew on her lip for a minute, waiting for the question you could feel coming based on how she was drumming her fingers on the metal table.

“Where did Penelope’s attack originate?” Rayne asked.

“Her hand. Remember how damaged her palm was beneath her synthetic skin?” you said.

“Yeah, she actually has like a scar there now. So Isaac’s was based in his eye…” Rayne trailed off and a shudder ran over her shoulders. “Fucking assholes.”

“Agreed,” you said emphatically. “Two very sensitive regions on androids, to be sure. The attacks were made to feel personal. What else did you find?”

“The signature is a crude version of what the other wiped androids were affected by in the months following.” Rayne ran her finger along the edges of the wires following the precise slash. “The tools used were sophisticated and the person that did it knew their way around androids. You think someone from CyberLife did this?”

The question made your lips pinch together. “I thought the same thing when I first analyzed this case. The variables in the attacks after that felt like copycats, but yes, I think the first people to start doing this were associated with CyberLife. Or still are.”

Rayne swallowed thickly. “What, like, they’re taking hits out on androids or something?”

“That’s what we’re trying to help the detectives figure out. Our job is to pick apart the facts and give them information.” You sigh and fold your arms. “Hard not to speculate, though. It’s almost like we have all the answers in front of us but don’t have the right questions. Makes the motive feel murky.”

The phone in your office interrupted your discussion. You motioned for Rayne to continue her analysis, digging for clues in an old grave that had been picked apart at the seams. There was always a small chance a fresh set of eyes could find something the previous analyst hadn’t.

“This is _______,” you answered.

“Hello,” said the smooth voice of the android receptionist out front. “You have an incoming call from an unknown outside number. The call will be monitored or recorded.”

“Alright, I’ll take it, Hannah. Thanks.” 

Recording outside calls was common practice for the DPD. Hannah pushed some buttons after asking you to hold for the transfer. You frequently took calls like this from vendors and CyberLife itself but it struck you as funny that the number was unknown yet Hannah wasn’t screening it further.

“You destroyed the phone I provided.”

You almost dropped the phone. You brought the wireless receiver with you towards the furthest corner of your office so you could speak without being overheard.

“No, I didn’t. You realize we’re being recorded right now, right?”

“Child’s play. Even you could interfere with the phone recording, my dear accomplice.” 

Kamski’s voice felt like oil on your skin and you fought the urge to shudder. From the way his voice lilted a bit at the insult, you could tell that even if the DPD wasn’t recording this, he was.

“Why are you calling me here?” you asked. 

It was hard to keep exasperation out of your voice. It had only been three days since you last had to endure his cryptic and unsettling behavior. Each time you communicated it got worse. You had a feeling the multitude of Chloe's he employed and housed were not a good substitute for human interaction. You privately thought he was more affected by his voluntary solitude than he let on.

“Can’t a friend check in on how another friend is doing? With your first big case working for the force, I thought it’s what I should do,” Kamski said. 

He put on airs like he didn’t actually care to know the answer, but why would he call you if he didn’t?

You hissed into the receiver, “I can’t tell you classified information, Elijah! I said that when I was there. But if you know something you really should -”

“Ah-ah, none of that. You’ll be interested to know that I’ve submitted my personal recommendation for our friend Pence to join you at the department. I wanted you to know from me, directly, so the message wouldn’t get a chance to get distorted.” Kamski cleared his throat delicately. You could picture the way his mouth was probably twitching, trying to hide a manipulative smile. “I look forward to the two of you working together again. We do such good work, don’t we?”

As suddenly as he dismissed you that weekend, Kamski ended the call. You walked the receiver back to its cradle with methodical movements. 

There was no question in your mind that Kamski was deliberately trying to get under your skin, coerce you to reveal what you knew of this investigation. On the one hand you understood his interest in the finer points. Even though it had been over a decade since he left CyberLife, he was the founder and former CEO, he was the reason androids existed at all. But there were far more sinister undertones to his methods.

You bit your thumbnail as you considered sending Connor or Hank a text. When you stubbed your toe on a file cabinet you realized you were pacing and decided the best thing to do would be to go upstairs and try to talk to them in person. You could think up an excuse to why you thought they should question Kamski. They needed probable cause, and enough evidence to get a warrant if he resisted, but you were sure you could think of something. Something, at least, that didn’t reveal how well you knew him. 

That and you were very interested to know how the questioning with Penelope went. Surely they’d be back from the safe house by now?

Trading your lab coat for your blazer, you popped your head into Rayne’s side of the lab and asked her to check on the incoming work tickets while you took your lunch break. She nodded to show she’d heard you but couldn’t do much more. Her hands were carefully running a solder over something on the table.

You didn’t bother with waiting for the elevator. Half jogging down the hallway, you made it a point to slow down and wave at the cop on duty to watch the evidence room. Staying friendly with them meant much quicker releases of evidence to study and much more lenient return times.

With a glance into the break room near the bullpen, you noticed there weren’t many officers there taking their breaks. The weather had cleared up considerably, so you wondered if they were taking advantage of what could be one of the last sunny days before fall officially took hold of the city. Your gaze moved quickly over the desks and found one of the people you wanted to see.

Connor rested his hands, fingertips devoid of synthetic skin, against his specialized keyboard to transfer his case data at lightning speed. The modifications were made by you in the first month of working in the DPD. You remembered the moment he’d smiled at you and thanked you for it, even though you insisted it was nothing. The butterflies had first shown up that day.

Now the butterflies were back but were more hesitant. You hadn’t really talked to him in almost a week apart from short work related messages. Connor had furrowed brows as he worked at his desk. On your approach, those lines softened slightly, and he greeted you warmly.

“Good afternoon, ________.”

“Hey, Connor, how long ago did you get back? How did the questioning go?” you asked, rambling because of your pent up anxiety from Kamski, and worrying you’d offended him somehow. Sticking to work topics seemed safe.

“Unfortunately Penelope’s memory drive was corrupted before you were able to stop the wipe.” Connor’s frown made your stomach sink. He tilted his head a bit as your expression fell, and it reminded you of a confused puppy. “That isn’t your fault. You did the best you could.”

“I’ll just need to do better if it happens again,” you said. “What else, what were you able to find out?”

Connor opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it, pushed his chair back slightly, and folded his hands in his lap before continuing. “The memory files we were hoping for, ones from before her attack, were impossible to extract without the potential of harming Penelope. Here, look at what we were able to obtain.”

You moved to half-sit against the top of his desk, staring at the screen where he gestured. “Where am I looking?”

“Here. The file exists, the memory wasn’t erased or destroyed, but her knowledge of what she saw the night of the murder has been encrypted so heavily she can’t undo it herself.”

You clenched your jaw. “Did you or Lucille try to help her with it?”

“No. She wasn’t comfortable interfacing with either of us.” 

You sighed in relief. There was still the danger that the wipe might exist as a dormant virus you weren’t able to extract from Penelope. After the wipe, and the further down you drilled, it was harder to tell what was malignant code and what was her.

“Hank and I were still able to build a profile based on what she told us. Physical things like the recording of her location were unharmed during the attack.”

Connor continued to show you where he and Hank were able to confirm other reports, such as the limited camera footage around the building where their murder victim was disposed. You listened eagerly. His voice lifted and fell with excitement or emphasis where needed as he explained, holding your attention completely. By the time you leaned back and put your hands behind your head, taking a deep breath, your butt was numb from sitting on the edge of Connor’s desk. You stood to relieve that a little.

“Why was Penelope even in that part of town when the attack happened?” you mused aloud. Staring into the distance you squinted and considered the possibilities. “She wasn’t far from the CyberLife store she was freed from, actually. When we went to visit her this weekend she mentioned that. Did she tell you she never had human owners?”

“Yes, though you bring up a point I hadn’t considered.” Connor looked at you with an impressed lift of his eyebrows. He leaned in his desk chair on one elbow and looked up at you. You lowered your arms self-consciously, very aware that he was staring at you and the way you were standing was pretty much pushing your chest towards him and you hoped no one had walked by and noticed that. Connor continued to speak, unaware of your moment of mild embarrassment. “Why would she be in that district at the time the incident occurred, close to three in the morning according to the coroner? It isn’t a hostile area to androids but it’s almost strictly zoned for businesses that were closed at that time, and her employment records show her job is within New Jericho, though not what it is specifically. I’ll confirm with Lucille before attempting to call Penelope from the office, rather than travel back to the safe house and increase the chance its location is detected.”

“Speaking of, where is Lucille, and Hank?” you asked, noticing while Connor was sitting at his desk and had been for a bit that the other two were nowhere to be seen.

“They stayed longer with Penelope. Hank doesn’t want Lucille traveling alone with the increase on attacks on androids, especially since they only seem to occur to those by themselves.”

That made you lift an eyebrow incredulously. “Then why did he let  _ you _ come back here by yourself?”

“Detective Reed was with us, too, so I came back with him.”

“I think you would have been safer traveling alone,” you said sarcastically.

Connor sent you a cheeky grin before turning back to his desktop and continuing his reports. The images flashed across the screen faster than your human eyes could follow accurately. “The detective and I get along well enough for a fifteen minute car ride. I do wonder, though, what he would say if he knew he and Hank had similar taste in music?”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me, Knights of the Black Death?” you said, recalling a previous conversation you’d had with the android and his human partner. Arguing the finer points of what was death metal and what wasn’t with an inebriated lieutenant was one of your favorite memories of Hank since meeting him six months ago. 

Connor looked as amused as you. “The very same.”

A companionable silence passed between you as Connor worked and you tried to follow along. You were trying not to panic in the privacy of your mind. Feeling this comfortable around him after one normal conversation made you realize how much you’d missed just talking to him recently. It had only been  _ three fucking days _ since you had. 

“I’m not sure who would be more upset by that,” you said with a smirk.

“Gavin, undoubtedly. He has a reputation for trying not to like things that Hank does. There are several instances I can recall where his opinion on a matter changed for no logical reason except a distaste for liking the same thing.”

That was something you couldn’t explain either. “Human nature can be very confusing.”

Connor’s shoulders lifted the smallest amount as if he were tensing. The action, so unusual for him, surprised you and grabbed your attention. 

You knew in intimate detail what sorts of behavioral programming was made for androids to mimic human actions related to emotion but most of those emotions were limited to what would be necessary in the android’s missions. Seeing this piece of humanity expressed so subtly in Connor made a confusing mix of excitement and nerves swell inside you. Excitement from what appeared to be organically learned or acquired mannerisms, and nerves because of the actual implication of the movement itself. Why had he tensed up? Androids didn’t feel pain, not really, so flinching or tensing wasn’t something they were programmed necessarily to do.

“Connor. What’s wrong?” you asked as delicately as you could. You didn’t want him to think his reaction was wrong - you wanted to encourage  _ more _ of those natural reactions from him, in fact.

He looked around you for a moment before answering. “It appears as though your lunch break has concluded. Would you mind if I joined you in the lab in a few minutes?”

At first you thought he could be brushing you off but you caught on before you could say something about that. Giving him a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that he would be explaining himself in a minute, you walked back towards the lab. You were glad your stomach was still a bit queasy from Kamski’s phone call before to actually want to eat. 

Thinking that made you slap your forehead while riding the elevator. The original reason you went upstairs in the first place, and you’d blanked. Typical. It should have been as simple as mentioning in a false offhand way that maybe the creator of androidkind would have insight on what kind of person would have the skills necessary to create such sophisticated weapons. In a way you were surprised Hank or Connor hadn’t tried that themselves yet.

You’d have to try again when he came downstairs to explain whatever had spooked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](https://disillusionist9.tumblr.com/) || [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/emilyvergin/playlist/6F0xXXFaWhlDWnP6IFwAmY?si=KFHz-LqCTJi0rg9acWQ4Jw) || [Fic Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/disillusionist9/the-parent-trap-dbh/) ||
> 
> Yo I promise it's not an April Fool's joke I just happened to be able to finish this chapter's edits on the second spookiest day of the year.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------  
> A million and one thank yous to [VividlyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividlyLost/pseuds/VividlyLost) because she is the one keeping me sane and helping with so many good ideas, dialogue suggestions, and pointing out all the plot holes. Without her the story wouldn't be able to go deviant. ❤ Check out her DBH and other stories here on AO3 (link above)! Her writing is fantastic.


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